Hazard
by Neurotic Temptress
Summary: AU. Gambit, Rogue. Nothing eventful ever happens in small towns... right?
1. When I Was Just Seven

**Disclaimer: **My disclaimer was talking back to me so I decided to make it run laps around the track a couple of times. It's got about a hundred or so more to go, so I wouldn't expect it back any time soon.

**A/N: **For those of you who have never read any of my previous posts, I warn you I'm a bit insane (For proof of this just check out my penname). Consider yourselves forewarned, so no complaining when you realize that the insanity has slowly seeped into your own brain at the end of this chapter.

* I realize this is a bit unorthodox, but I just couldn't resist replying to the people who were nice enough to review the last fic I posted (It's a tradition of sorts. Here's hoping you all are reading.) If you're the impatient sort, you can skip on ahead to the next asterisk, though I promise to make it quick.

~ Chez, Mag Carter, T. -- Thanks for the kind words and good wishes!

~ Christy S, JADEOBLUE -- You two got me. I started thinking about continuing that fic with Remy's POV when I was posting it. Maybe when I get stuck again with this one.

~ ishandahalf -- Followed your advise and became one with the keyboard. Now I can't the damn thing off me!

~ Rupeshwari -- I honestly never thought of Rogue's mindless wanderings from that angle, but now that you mention it that could explain the direction her thoughts were heading!

~ Disturbed Courtney -- *slowly and carefully pushes story within fellow author's reach* Okay, I'm backing up now, niiiicccceee and easy; no reason to get violent. Everything's cool... everything's fine. : )

~ V -- Merry Christmas to you, too! : )

* I've had this idea bouncing around in my brain for the last five months now, but didn't want to get into it until I'd wrapped up the other fic that was in progress at the time. It's plot is based on a song I was listening to while working on a chapter of the aforementioned story. Once we get to the last part, I'll attach the lyrics so you can see where it originated from.

**CHAPTER 1  
When I Was Just Seven**

"Mornin', Remy. Mind if we have a word with you?"

Nothing good ever came from those words. But having no other choice, Remy LeBeau opened his front door wider and let the town sheriff and his deputy enter.

"Somet'in' de matter, Sheriff?" he asked, once he had closed the door and turned to face his early morning visitors.

Instead of answering immediately, Sheriff James Miller strode casually around the small living room, looking over the personal trinkets and framed photographs that littered the various surfaces. His associate, Kyle Stephens, stood a few feet away, absently twirling his deputy's hat in his hand.

The forced casualness of their stances set off a number of different alarms in Remy's head. While it wasn't uncommon for the local law enforcement to check up on the residents every once and again, it _was_ odd that they did so at the crack of dawn. They normally opted to settle whatever mini-drama had gripped the town at a fairly decent hour.

With that in mind, Remy tried to decipher the expressions on their faces. Both were unreadable. That did nothing to ease the slow tension that was creeping its way along his body.

Sheriff Miller picked up one photo in particular and stared at it. He then turned to the young man and said, "You really do look like your mama, Remy. 'Cept for your eyes." He returned the frame to its place among its peers. "I 'member the day you two moved into town. Not everyday we get new folks 'round these parts. You tend to remember the new faces pretty good; small town an' all. How long's it been now?"

"A while," the young man replied vaguely, though he could recall that day as easily as he could recall what he'd eaten for dinner the night before.

- oOo -

Remy jumped down from the old pick-up truck and helped his mother with what meager luggage they had with them. Susanne politely thanked the truck's driver for allowing them to catch a ride before watching him speed off out of town.

Surveying their new surroundings through his dark sunglasses, and with the curiosity of innocent, seven-year-old eyes, Remy asked, "Is dis our new home, _Maman?"_

His mother tried to muster up an encouraging smile. "Dat's right, _petit._ We gon' stay here f'r a li'l while, see if it don' grow on us a bit."

"We gon' stay here longer dan dose other places we been?"

Inwardly, Susanne grimaced. It bothered her deeply that she had to uproot her young son from whatever home-for-the-moment they'd made for themselves. In the past year alone, they had moved four times, and across the span of half the continental United States. At first, Remy seemed to thrive on the 'adventure,' the sights and sounds of the places they'd seen outside their native New Orleans. But it slowly began to wear him down. He would attempt to put up a brave front for his mother's sake, but Susanne knew her son longed for the security of a stable home.

"You ask too many questions, _petit,"_ she scolded affectionately. "Come over here an' help me wit' dese bags. We got an appointment wit' a lady 'bout a job."

It took them all of five minutes to locate the modest-sized diner down the road, along Main Street. As they entered the establishment, several of the patrons looked up from their afternoon meals to openly stare at the new arrivals. Once again forcing a smile -- this time for the benefit of complete strangers -- Susanne gestured for Remy to precede her on their trek toward the counter.

"_Bonjour,"_ she greeted the plump, middle-aged woman who was busily running a clean towel over a number of glasses and plates. "I am lookin' f'r Margaret Smith."

"And who might you be, honey?"

"My name is Susanne. I am a friend of Emily's," she replied, though she wasn't sure how accurate that statement was.

Emily Smith had been one of the bargirls that worked in the Boston nightclub across the street from Susanne's old job. She had barely known the girl, but when Emily learned that Susanne was looking for some place 'quiet' to live, she'd suggested her hometown of Hazard, Nebraska.

"You can't get any more quiet than Hazard," Emily had said with a touch of disdain in her voice. "Main reason why I left that two-bit town."

And so Susanne packed their few belongings and brought Remy from the East coast to the Midwest, where Emily had instructed them to seek out her Aunt Margaret for a possible job opening.

The older woman set down the last dried plate and turned to smile warmly at the young mother. "I was just testin' you, honey. I know who you are. Li'l Emmie called 'bout a week ago. Said she was sendin' a friend over. She didn't mention that there'd be two of you." As she turned to Remy, her smile made an appearance once more. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Remy LeBeau."

"Cute li'l devil, ain't ya? Though those glasses are a bit too big for you."

"I got a problem wit' de light," he answered a little too quickly, as she reached over to remove them herself. "Hurts m'eyes."

Margaret's expression softened even more. "Poor thing. Let's get you outta the sunlight then. Follow me."

She led them through a doorway just beyond the end of the counter and underneath a flight of stairs. Stopping at the farthest door, she took out a key and unlocked it, before stepping over the threshold and gesturing around the room.

"It ain't much, but it's a start," Margaret stated. "Originally, it was a storage area. 'Til my oldest boy wanted to get out of sharin' a room with his brother so many years ago. We even put in a decent bathroom here in the back." She walked over and opened another door, revealing the white and blue tiles of the washroom. "Ol' Phil came by the other day and reconnected the plumbing. We didn't think of puttin' a kitchen, though." She smiled wryly. "Seemed like a senseless thing to do, considerin' there's a kitchen out there for the diner already."

"_Merci, madame,"_ Susanne said. "It is more dan generous o' you."

"It's not a problem, honey. Had too much space 'round here anyway since all my li'l ones moved out and my husband passed on."

"I am sorry t'hear dat."

The older woman nodded, accepting the sympathy but brushing the topic aside. "Well..." she said, expelling a deep breath and flopping her hands against her sides. "I hate to do this to you, Susie, but I think you're gonna haveta unpack a li'l later. I need your help out there with the customers, while I take care of the kitchen. I'm sure Remy can find somethin' to entertain himself with on the TV while we work."

"Don' worry, _Maman,"_ Remy put in, "I'll take care o' our stuff. Promise t'be real neat an' ev'ryt'in'." He grabbed a hold of his mother's bag and struggled slightly as he attempted to set it on top of the room's only bed.

Margaret nodded over to where he stood. "Got yourself a sweet one there."

"_Oui,"_ Susanne replied. "I do."

"I'll see if I can't get one of the boys to help me bring down another bed for li'l Remy."

The younger woman smiled in gratitude. "_Merci."_

- oOo -

Margaret looked up from the money in her hand and over to where Susanne was busy refilling the condiment dispensers. The last patron had left a few minutes before and they were in the process of closing up for the night.

It had been a week since mother and son had moved into the spare room, and Margaret had to admit that it was one of her wiser decisions. Not only was Susanne a hard-worker, she was also a quick learner. Within a few days of starting her job as a waitress, she had picked up the routine and the 'rhythm' of the diner quite easily. Not to mention the fact that, despite not being asked to, Remy would find little ways to pitch in. He would stand beside Margaret in the kitchen while she fixed a customer's order, watching intently on how she prepared the food. He'd make himself useful by fetching her spices, ingredients, or pots and pans that she asked for. He would take order slips from his mother and dutifully recite them to Margaret before going about retrieving the items that she would need to fill the order. He would even pull a wooden stool over to the sink when he saw that the stacks of dirty dishes were getting too high; being extra careful that nothing would accidentally slip out of his soapy, little-boy hands.

Margaret was very much impressed with the young boy's efforts to help his mother out. When her children were Remy's age, she had to practically bribe them to do their chores. If not bribe, then threaten with a none-too-pleasant voice.

"Remy," the proprietor called to the little boy, who was busily maneuvering a mop around the tables and upturned chairs. "C'mere a second, sweetie."

Remy complied, leaning the mop against a nearby wall and making his way to Margaret's side. She took hold of his thin wrist and pulled him around to the other side of the counter where the large cash register blocked them from Susanne's view. Quietly, Margaret pressed a five-dollar bill into Remy's small hand. He opened his mouth in surprise and lifted questioning eyes to her.

"It's for all the work you do around here, sweetie," she said in a hushed tone as she knelt down to his level. "Your mama doesn't think I should pay you for everythin' you do 'round here -- some nonsense 'bout your free room an' food -- but I can't let ya work so hard an' not give you anythin'." Ruffling his hair, she added, "Jus' don't tell your mama. It'll be our li'l secret. Okay?"

Remy nodded and then grinned as he looked at the lone bill in his hand. His young, child's mind began to think of all the sweet treats he could buy from the general store just down the street.

"_Merci,"_ he whispered to Margaret.

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now you go finish up with your moppin'. An' remember, our li'l secret."

"_Oui, madame."_

Margaret smiled as she watched him go about his earlier task. She almost chuckled at the way he made sure every nook and cranny was clean, as if knowing that he was now being paid made him all the more diligent. She then straightened and turned to his mother.

"So, Susie," she said, walking toward the other woman while picking up a table rag along the way. She methodically began wiping down the counter. "You gonna tell me what it is you're runnin' from?"

Susanne nearly dropped the large jar of sugar she was propping up, the question taking her completely off-guard. "_Pardonnez-moi?_ [Pardon me?]"

With a quick look of annoyance at what was obviously a stalling tactic, Margaret expounded, "Small towns like this, in 'Nowhere, U.S.A.,' are known for havin' most of its young run off in search of a more 'active' lifestyle. They go travelin' over to the coasts, lookin' to never come back." The rag in her hands ceased its circular motions. "You're a pretty li'l thing. Young, too. An' despite havin' a baby boy, I'm willin' to bet the money you made in the city was far better than anythin' I could ever pay ya." The wiping motion began once again. "You're the only person I've ever heard of that's run away from a _city._ Sounds to me like you're lookin' to get yourself lost out here."

The astuteness with which Margaret appraised her situation was shocking. There was a part of Susanne that desperately wanted to confide in her. She seemed warm and caring, concerned and genuine enough to trust with the truth. Still, there was another part of Susanne that was hesitant to do so. In their current situation, it was safer to trust no one.

When she failed to answer, Margaret attempted to press her again. "Is it because of a man?" The younger woman's hands stilled in the process of tightening the lid of the sugar jar. Margaret saw the battle of emotions playing across her face, as if she was unsure of discussing her ordeal. Softening her voice to a soothing pitch, Margaret asked, "Is he Remy's father?"

Susanne turned her gaze to the older woman, looking for any sign that would indicate a confession was not the most prudent of decisions. But there was nothing but unadulterated concern reflecting back at her, and for the first time in a little over a year and a half, Susanne felt safe enough to share the truth.

"_Mon fils_ [My son]," she called, turning to where Remy was just finishing with the floor. "It's late. Get ready f'r bed. I'll be dere in a li'l while."

"But, _Maman,"_ he protested, "I haveta clean up de mop first, else it'll be all yucky t'morrow."

"Give it here, sweetie," Margaret instructed, stepping in. "I'll take care of that. You go do what your mama says."

Almost reluctantly, Remy did as he was told, handing the mop to Margaret and shuffling off toward the backroom.

Once the little boy was out of sight, a hush fell over the two women. Susanne realized that although she'd made the decision to open up to Margaret, she wasn't entirely certain of how to go about it. Fortunately, Margaret chose to break the ice for her.

"Remy looks exactly like you, Susie. I'm guessin' there's not much of his daddy in him."

"_Non._ Not much."

A pause. "You wanna start at the beginnin'?"

Susanne nodded slowly, and then took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She reached over to her right and extracted a plastic straw from the dispenser, idly fingering the paper wrapping. "I... I was very young when I became pregnant, barely out o' high school. Remy's poppa didn' believe me when I told him dat Remy was his. He left Nawlins shortly after; haven't seen or heard anyt'in' from him since den.

"It was diff'cult havin' m'son an' raisin' him wit'out a poppa. Truth be told, I was scared outta m'soul. I had no idea what I was doin'. Up until a few months before, I wasn't even allowed t'decide who was gon' run de country. Now suddenly I was responsible f'r makin' de decisions in someone else's life.

"But I knew dat I loved Remy wit' all m'heart. I _had_ t'make t'ings work, f'r his sake alone. It took me more dan a year t'do it but I got m'life t'gether. I had a steady job -- not'in' too fancy, but at least it took care o' de bills -- an' a place t'call home. Ev'ryt'in' was workin' out pretty good.

"It was 'round dis time dat we met Jean-Luc LeBeau. By den, Remy was eighteen months old an' still masterin' de art o' walkin'. We were makin' our way t'rough de streets o' de French Quarter, havin' jus' come from de market. De bag I was carryin' was gettin' heavy in m'arms, so I let go o' Remy's hand f'r a second t'adjust it. When I reached out f'r Remy again he wasn't dere. I looked up jus' in time t'see m'baby step off de curb an' inta de street. I couldn't even scream as I saw de car speedin' 'round de corner.

"Out o' nowhere, a man came runnin', snatchin' Remy up an' out o' harm's way. I was so relieved dat m'son was safe I completely f'rgot 'bout his rescuer.

"'I t'ink he's all right, _madame,'_ he said t'me. T'ink he was amused by de fact dat I had jus' checked Remy over f'r de fifth time, makin' sure dat he wasn't hurt. I picked up m'son an' kissed his cheek before turnin' t'thank de man who'd saved his life.

"Now dis may sound cliché, but de world seemed t'stop when m'eyes met his. Dere was somet'in' dat drew me t'him, like he had an old soul -- an old soul dat I'd known intimately in a past life or somet'in'. T'say dat I was enchanted wit' him would have been an understatement.

"It wasn't until two months o' seein' each other dat I learned he was de head o' de Nawlins T'ieves Guild. De t'ought o' becomin' involved in deir lifestyle frightened me. You see, de T'ieves Guild were de rivals o' de other powerful fam'ly in de city: de Assassins Guild. De feud between de clans had been goin' on f'r centuries. I wasn't sure if I wanted t'bring m'son inta dat. But I loved Jean-Luc. Even more importantly, _Remy_ loved Jean-Luc. An' I knew, wit'out a doubt, dat he loved us jus' as much. In de end I let him convince me. We were married a year after our first meetin'. Shortly after dat, Jean-Luc legally adopted m'son so dat his name could officially become Remy LeBeau."

For the first time since beginning her story, Susanne lifted her gaze from the straw in her hands and looked over to Margaret. The older woman gave her a warm smile and a reassuring pat on the arm. Encouraged by the simple gestures, Susanne continued.

"I have t'admit, de adjustment was a bit strange f'r me. We had gone from livin' a quiet life in a small home in de city, t'enterin' de 'first fam'ly' o' de T'ieves Guild an' movin' inta an estate dat had a livin' room bigger dan our entire apartment. But Remy seemed t'have taken t'de change well. Jean-Luc's older son, Henri, adored Remy an' t'gether dey got inta all sorts o' mischief, along wit' de rest o' deir cousins.

"If I had t'ought t'ings were good before I met Jean-Luc, den t'ings were even better _after_ I met him. We were happy t'gether, jus' de two o' us an' our boys. I had even gotten used t'bein' part o' such a big fam'ly. O' course, I'd worry each time de assassins started a ruckus, but I was more or less confident dat de Guild's defenses were strong enough t'stand against dem."

Susanne laughed bitterly. "Dat was our mistake -- focusin' so much attention on de _outside_ attacks dat we didn' even suspect de ones from de _inside._ Dere was a mutiny among de T'ieves. A group o' Jean-Luc's distant relatives believed dat dey should've been in charge o' de Guild an' not m'husband. Dey entered our home unexpectedly an' killed our fam'ly. Jean-Luc forced me inta de tunnels dat ran under de house an' told me t'take Remy an' run. I stood not ten feet away, hidden in de shadows o' de catacombs an' frozen t'de spot in horror, as m'husband an' stepson were murdered. It was only when I heard deir leader order de men t'search de house f'r survivors dat I snapped out o' m'shock. I couldn't let dem get deir hands on Remy. Wit' Jean-Luc an' Henri gone, he was next in line as patriarch o' de Guild. Even t'ough he wasn't o' Jean-Luc's flesh, his adoption was as bindin' in de eyes o' de Guild as if he were born o' deir own blood. If deir plans o' overtakin' de clan were t'succeed, m'son would have t'be eliminated.

"From dat day f'rward, runnin' seemed t'become a natural instinct t'me. At first, I t'ought Remy an' I would be safe as long as we were out o' de city limits, but de murderin' bastards weren't takin' any chances. Dey came after us an' we had no choice but t'run from dem.

"Dat was a li'l over a year an' half ago. Deir pursuit since den seems t'have waned as de months pass. We prob'ly could have made a good life if we had stayed in Boston, but dere's no denyin' de fact dat it's a big city -- an' big cities would be one o' de first places dey'll look if dey continue searchin' f'r Remy."

"And so when Emily suggested you come to Hazard, you figured they wouldn't search for you this far from Louisiana?" Margaret estimated.

"_Oui._ Dey have no reason t't'ink we would come here."

Margaret leaned over and gathered the young woman into her arms. "I'm so sorry, Susie. I had no idea you've had such a hard life."

Still somewhat lost in memories, Susanne could only nod silently. She had seen a lot in her twenty-five years of living, and she was more than ready for a simpler, quieter lifestyle. Hopefully one that would last longer than a few sparse months at a time.

"_Maman?"_

Both women turned to the archway that lead to the back of the diner. Remy stood, clad in dark blue pajamas and a brow-creasing frown.

"_Maman,_ are you cryin'?" he asked.

Susanne straightened and discreetly wiped away the tears that had somehow escaped. "_Non, petit._ 'M fine. Go slip inta bed. I'll be dere t'say good night in a minute. Jus' let me finish dis." Before she could react, a hand came down and prevented her from picking up the sugar jar once again.

"I'll finish cleanin' up, Susie," stated Margaret. "Spend some time with your son."

The smile on Susanne's face was tentative but grateful. "_Merci, madame..._ f'r ev'ryt'in'."

"Go on, off to bed with you," Margaret chided gently, watching as Susanne met her son in the doorway and wrapped her arm around his small shoulders. Together they made their way back to their room.

_Oh, sweet Jesus,_ she thought as she rested her elbows onto the counter and brought a hand to her mouth. _It seems so unfair; to be so young and to go through so much. How does a person survive all that?_

Just then, Margaret felt a distinct pull on her skirt. Looking down, she caught sight of her own image reflecting in Remy's sunglasses. She still found it odd that the young boy wore them even at night, but dismissed it as being a part of his eye condition.

"You should be in bed, Remy, it's late," she told him, leaning down to his level.

"I know. Jus' wanted t'say good night." He threw his arms around her neck and kissed her soundly on the cheek. "_Bonne nuit,_ Maggie," he whispered before bounding out of the room again.

Margaret Smith smiled. She now knew the answer to her earlier question. He was walking away from her, wearing blue pajamas and dark sunglasses.

----

~ Just a little background information on how and why Remy came to this small town.

* Next up *  
Where's Rogue? And what does the sheriff want with Remy?


	2. Prejudiced Eyes

**Disclaimer: **I've decided to boycott the disclaimer for this chapter. I mean honestly, do you think Marvel even knows what we're doing? Do they even care? Dammit, it's just more money into their pockets anyway! While we're here getting diddly squat! *ahem* If there are any Marvel agents out there, please ignore the first five sentences.

**A/N: **Okay, a few things...  
1) I'm insane. So just ignore everything that I say.  
2) I forgot to mention last chapter, and missy42 was kind enough to remind me, that this story has a lot of flashbacks in it. But since I don't really like announcing the year and location before each scene -- or the fact that it _is_ a flashback -- I'm simply dropping hints within the content. Apologies if it gets confusing. Please keep in mind that just because the scene breaks appear, doesn't necessarily mean that the story is jumping from present to past, and then back to the present again.  
3) With Mag Carter's help, I was able to catch a little story flaw in the previous chapter. (Many thanks btw, Mag!) I've since gone back and changed that little line. It's not in any way a major change; it holds the same idea as the previous one, just a different analogy.  
4) It's late at night, and by all rights, I _should_ be sleeping. Obviously I'm not. So don't be surprised if half of what I'm typing at the moment makes no sense whatsoever. Hey, I'm nuts -- you should be used to it by now.

* All right, I'm calling shout outs time! For those of you who are impatient or simply don't want to hear me rambling -- not that I blame you -- skip on down to the next asterisk.

~ Rupeshwari, vagabond, T., Lucky439, susan, V, TrinityC, Jean1, Sujakata, lovelyaceinthehole, girlonthem00n -- Thanks so much for telling me what you think! *hands out cute little blue ribbons* If you wear these and then go out, absolutely nothing will happen. But at least you'll have a cute little blue ribbon on your clothes! : )

~ ishandahalf, Disturbed Courtney -- *calls attention of other readers* These, my friends, are textbook examples of the insanity slowly seeping into the brain that I mentioned last chapter. It's not a pretty sight, no. If I catch any more of you with reviews such as these, then God help you... you've become one of us. *hugs ish and Courtney* Don't worry. Maybe the asylum's got our old straitjackets on reserve.

~ Mag Carter -- Thank you once again for pointing that out. You'd think I would've checked that out a bit before I wrote it, especially since I researched something similar in another story. Guess there's no accounting for mental blackouts, huh? ; )

~ Broadway -- I didn't know you could tap dance! ; ) Umm... could you do that again? *whips out video camera* I wanna get that on tape. Y'know, for posterity -- *cough* blackmail. ; )

~ Leigh -- Hehe! I got Leigh to sing! *aims camera in Leigh's direction* Keep going! We can enter you in some kind of singing contest or something and earn big, big bucks! ; )

~ missy42 -- I make no promises that I will keep my promises because every time I promise something, I end up breaking that promise, so why bother promising? Uhh... yeah. That made sense, right? ; )

* Once again, under normal circumstances, I'm seriously demented. Now I'm demented and sleepy. A deadly combination. Don't mess with me.

**CHAPTER 2  
Prejudiced Eyes**

The memories were strong for Remy. Like a tidal wave crashing over him and drowning him in the familiar emotions. Sadness overshadowed by the innocent excitement of youth. A time long ago when he could successfully delude himself into believing that his situation wasn't as bad as it appeared to be.

He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. Memories had a way of locking into his soul and drawing his attention away from the matters at hand. Turning toward the kitchen, he asked his two visitors, "C'n I get you gentlemen some coffee?"

"Thank you, son," Sheriff Miller answered for both he and his deputy. "We take it black, if you wouldn't mind."

Remy set about preparing the cups, reaching into the cupboard to retrieve three of them. From the living room he could hear the two men's voices arguing quietly between themselves. About what, he wasn't quite sure. They were smart, lowering their voices to nothing more than whispered murmurs. None of which he could decipher.

He waited until the coffee was finished before venturing out again, handing his guests their drinks and then returning for his own. Not wanting to appear too concerned with their visit, Remy sank down into one of the armchairs, opposite the couch the Sheriff had settled into. He was wary of the fact that Deputy Stephens didn't seem inclined to take a seat next to his superior. Rather he opted to remain standing, roaming the room at his own leisure. His actions, for some reason, made Remy uncomfortable. The young Cajun had the strong desire to stand as well, to put an end to what he felt was an advantage over him.

"So, Remy," the Deputy asked, speaking for the first time, "how goes the job? Jim pushing you too hard?"

Remy had been working as a mechanic at Jim's Garage for the past four years. What had started as a part-time job eventually become a fulltime occupation once he'd graduated from high school a year before. It wasn't the greatest profession in the world in terms of a financial payoff, but it was honest work and gave him enough free time to fix up his motorcycle.

"_Non._ Job's fine," he replied, sipping his coffee. "Brought in Mr. Robinson's truck de other day; busted transmission. Had t'replace a couple gears t'get it runnin' again."

The Sheriff quirked an eyebrow at him from over his own cup. "Don give you a hard time?"

A smirk found its way onto Remy's features. Donald Robinson was known for being a particularly stubborn man. He resisted progress like a fossil beneath the earth, so painstakingly slow to change. A slew of complaints would pass through his lips on a daily basis. Mostly on how everything was becoming too pricey, and how, back in his day, things were done quite differently. But everyone in town knew that one of his favorite pastimes was trying to send trouble Remy's way.

"Not'in' 'm not used to," he said. And it was the truth. Remy had been contending with prejudice his entire life. But it seemed to have been amplified tenfold that one fateful day, twelve years before.

- oOo -

They'd been living with Margaret for a little over two weeks. Business was still fairly good since school wouldn't be open for another month or so, and kids were coming and going in search of cool treats to ward off the summer's heat. Susanne, who normally could handle the diner's customers on her own, was slightly behind on orders. She had injured her ankle while getting out of bed that morning and was favoring her right foot. Remy had volunteered to help lessen her workload. Unsure of her seven-year-old's ability to balance several plates in his young arms, Susanne was hesitant at first but finally conceded on the condition that he would take extra care with each plate.

"Remy!" Margaret called. "Order's up!" She couldn't resist the smile that played on her lips as he made his way back into the kitchen. An adult-sized apron was looped about his neck and tied around his waist. In order for it to fit in what could pass as a decent fashion, his mother had folded the white material several times over before tying it securely at his back. "We're gonna have to think about gettin' you your own apron. Maybe one that fits a li'l better." She bent down and playfully tapped the lens of his sunglasses. "You see all right through those, sweetie?"

He nodded quickly and held out his arms for the next plate to be served. Margaret gently handed him a plastic tray loaded with the single order.

"You up to balancin' a drink _and_ a plate this time?"

He smiled at the challenge. Susanne had instructed him to carry one plate or one glass at a time, emphasizing that it was better he make several trips rather than trying to serve multiple orders all at once. With confidence, he answered, "_Oui."_

"All right then. Now you go slow with this one, Remy," she cautioned, guiding him to the kitchen's doorway. "This goes over to Mrs. Patterson. She's the one in the brown blouse, just past the counter there."

Acknowledging her directions with another nod of his head, Remy turned to make his way over to his next customer. A frown of concentration marred his features as he focused his attention on both the tray in his hands and the floor beneath his feet. The rhythm of his steps caused the iced tea to slosh about in a precarious manner, threatening to spill the amber liquid onto the rest of the order. He slowed his movements considerably, ensuring that each footfall landed properly and securely onto the flat surface of the floor. He didn't want to embarrass Margaret or his mother by ruining a customer's meal.

A triumphant grin almost appeared on his lips when he was just one table away from Mrs. Patterson. He was proud of the fact that he could balance more than one item without dropping them. His _maman_ would be proud of him as well, he thought, once he told her of his accomplishment.

He was simply brimming with excitement when a chair suddenly slammed into his right side, knocking both he and the tray toward the counter to his left. Remy landed hard on the floor while the food and drink he'd been carrying splattered first across one customer's back and then onto himself.

From behind closed eyelids, he could hear the gasps and cries of alarm as the sound of the shattering plate and glass captured the diner's attention. He felt more than heard someone's presence hovering above him, soon followed by another, and then another.

"Are you all right, son?" a man's voice asked in concern. "I'm really sorry. I didn't see you there."

"Really, Louie," a motherly sounding woman scolded, "you should be more careful. You just don't shoot out of your chair like that. Especially not when the room is so crowded."

As they began to argue between themselves, Remy experimentally opened his eyes. The sun's bright rays quickly had him blinking several times before more gasps and shocked murmurs reached his ears. As he looked about, he realized that more than half of the diner's occupants had gathered around him, and that every set of eyes were glued to his face.

The woman who had been lecturing Louie muttered, "Mother of God," before quickly crossing herself. Remy recognized her as Mrs. Patterson.

Dazed and a bit confused, Remy remained where he was on the cold floor, unsure of what was happening. All around him he could hear people exchanging whispers.

"Those can't be real... can they?"

"They haveta be some kinda trick of the light."

"... black... and red..."

"Is that 'cause of the spill he jus' took?"

"... must be sick or somethin'."

"That's not natural."

Remy felt tears threatening to fall. His eyes. The reason why everyone was staring at him in earnest. He quickly snatched up his fallen sunglasses and slid them on. Hoisting himself up, he backed away from the crowd in front of him, only to bump into the person standing at his rear. Startled by the sudden contact, he whipped around to stare up at the man.

"You ruined my favorite shirt, boy," he practically snarled at the child. Remy could see the gravy stains across the man's shoulders, as well as some damp splotches of iced tea.

Laura Patterson waved her hand dismissively. "Forget about your shirt, Donald. Look at his eyes. They're like a demon's. Or the Devil's son," she breathed in realization, gripping the crucifix about her neck and then kissing it. She held it slightly away from her body, as if hoping to ward off any evil vibrations that may have been emanating from Remy's person. "If only Father Ben -- God rest his soul -- was still with us; he could free the boy of any unwanted spirits."

Just then Margaret's voice was heard from the kitchen doorway. "What's all the commotion about? We can hear you all from way out back."

"_Petit!"_ Susanne cried in surprise as she saw the mass of people surrounding her son. She hurriedly moved past Margaret and took in his soiled appearance. Not liking how the townsfolk were eyeing her child, she began gently pushing him toward their room in the back. "Let's go clean you up, _mon fils."_

They walked in silence, but the echoing murmurs of the crowd followed them down the short corridor and didn't cease until Susanne had firmly shut the door. She gestured for Remy to turn about so that she could untie his stained apron.

With a head bent in dispirit, Remy stated solemnly, "Dey saw, _Maman._ Dey saw m'eyes."

For a second, Susanne's hands stilled over the knot she was undoing. She should have suspected as much when she saw everyone gathered around her son. Remy's red and black eyes always drew such reactions. That was the reason he'd taken to wearing dark sunglasses, even in the dead of night. It was an odd precaution for a child his age to take, but it was infinitely better than having complete strangers ostracizing him.

She removed the apron, where most of the mess had landed, dropped to her knees and gathered him into her arms. She didn't say anything, simply held her son tightly, hoping desperately that the love in her embrace could somehow ease the pain he was feeling.

Nestled beneath his mother's chin, Remy squinted his eyes, as if trying to concentrate on a faraway object. "_Maman,"_ he uttered after some time of silence, "what's wrong wit' me?"

She nearly recoiled in shock. "_Rien_ [Nothing], _petit._ Why would you ask such a t'ing?" She smoothed back his hair so that she could see his face clearly.

"Dey call me a demon." He lifted a questioning gaze to his mother. "Dat's bad, _n'est-ce pas, Maman?_ [isn't it, Mama?]"

Susanne was struck speechless. How could she explain such a thing to her seven-year-old son? How did she assure him that he was no different from the next child when every other person was telling him otherwise?

"You listen t'me," she ordered him, cradling his face in her hands and demanding his attention. "_Tu n'est pas un demon. Comprenez?_ [You are no demon. Understand?]" She reverted to their second language, hoping that the words would have an even stronger affect on Remy. Jean-Luc had always spoken to him in French, and each time the young boy had listened with attention and respect. "_Tu es l'ange_ [You're an angel]." Smiling lovingly, she stroked his hair. "_Mon ange_ [My angel]."

"But dey -- "

"Dey don' understand, _petit. C'est tout._ [That's all.] Dey're scared because you are not like dem. You are special. An' dey don' know how wonderful you are."

Remy fell silent. He seemed to have digested his mother's words. Susanne wasn't exactly sure if that was a good thing. She may have bandaged the wound for the time being, but she feared that an infection was festering beneath.

Gently she turned him around so that he stood before her. "Remy, I have t'go back out dere an' help Margaret wit' de customers. But we'll talk 'bout dis t'night, _d'accord?_ [agreed?]" She watched as he nodded slowly. Lifting his chin, she held his gaze. "_Je t'aime,_ Remy."

"_Je t'aime assui_ [I love you too], _Maman."_

- oOo -

Margaret was disgusted. By the time closing came later that night, she was sure that the entire population of Hazard had walked through her doors. Curiosity and sick fascination were strong motivators. They would make shallow excuses of how it was "a particularly warm summer evening" and that one of Margaret's special iced tea blends would hit the spot perfectly. She had no doubt that this was the work of a certain town gossip by the name of Laura Patterson. The woman's mouth ran faster than her legs ever could. Not that Margaret wanted to speak ill of anyone -- not unless it was justified, anyway -- but she seriously wished that Laura would find another hobby. She'd been the main source of the rumor mill for the past thirty years. If the words passed through Laura's mouth, it had to be worth listening to.

Margaret peeked her head into the kitchen where Susanne was at the sink washing the night's dishes. "How's Remy doin'?" she asked.

Susanne paused as she was rinsing a plate. "T'be honest, 'm not sure. People have always reacted dat way t'Remy's eyes. I'd like t'say dat he's used t' it, but I don' t'ink he ever will be."

The older woman sighed. It was simply too much for such a young family to go through; from losing their loved ones, to running away, to having to deal with such narrow-minded individuals. Life had dealt them a hard hand.

Walking over to the large freezer, Margaret reached in and extracted a small carton of ice cream. "Do you mind if I went an' talked to him for a li'l while?"

Susanne was slightly startled by the request but quickly agreed. Though she'd only known Margaret for two weeks, there was something about her that she knew she could trust.

Leaving with a warm smile, Margaret made her way to the backroom, knocking soundly on the closed door once she'd arrived. She heard the faint sounds of padded feet across the floor before the door was opened and Remy stood before her, already wrapped in his pajamas.

"Hi, sweetie. Mind if I stay with you for a bit? I swiped you some ice cream. You didn't jus' brush your teeth, did you?"

He shook his head as she walked past him and entered the room. Settling down on one of the beds, she motioned for him to join her.

"So what have you been doin' since I last saw you?" She handed him both the carton and the spoon she had taken from behind the diner's counter.

He gestured toward the television set in front of them, which was currently running a family sitcom. "Watchin' TV." The lid to the ice cream was quickly discarded and a large spoonful was down his throat in seconds.

Margaret watched as he happily spooned the dessert into his mouth. She was saddened by the fact that even there, in the confines of his own room, he felt it necessary to wear his trademark sunglasses.

"Remy, would you mind if I asked you a question?" The ice cream-laden spoon paused on its ascent into his mouth. In response, she received a shake of his head. "You ain't listenin' to what all those yo-yo's are sayin' 'bout you, are ya?"

He tilted his head slightly and favored her with a questioning look. At least, she assumed it was a questioning look; she couldn't really tell from behind his dark lenses.

Continuing, she said, "I know your mama already told ya this, but don't you go payin' any mind to what these old goats are blabberin'. They jus' don't know any better." He didn't look too convinced by her little speech so she added, "Your mama told me that this kind of thing happened to you a lot, in your other homes. All I can say 'bout that is, those people were jus' as stupid."

The expression on his face was unmistakably surprised. Her words couldn't have been any blunter.

"What?" she asked almost defensively. "It's the truth. I've only known ya for a couple of weeks an' I already know I love you. Those blockheads jus' need some time to see what a sweet kid you are." She rested her hand on his arm. "But I can't promise you it'll be anytime soon. Some people are really stubborn," she explained. "Some of 'em might not even turn around at all. But you can't let that get ya down, Remy. If they're too thick-headed to see past somethin' different, then they're not really the type of people you want in your life." She straightened. "Do ya understand?"

"_Oui, madame."_

"Good. Now," she gestured to the sunglasses on his face, "I'm guessin' you wear those to hide your eyes and not 'cause of an eye condition like you told me before?" He nodded weakly, slightly ashamed that he'd had to lie to her. "Well then, why're you wearin' them now? Nobody here but me. C'mon, off with them," she instructed.

For a moment, Remy panicked. He knew how people reacted whenever he took off his glasses. He didn't like the look that appeared on their faces. It made him feel... dirty. He really didn't want to see Margaret's face when she saw his eyes for the first time. But the look she was pelting him with was unrelenting. She would wait there all night if she needed to, just to get him to comply.

With hesitant fingers, he reached up and removed the shades. He focused his gaze just beyond Margaret's shoulder, sparing himself from the look of horror that would appear on her features. But it never came. Instead, she cupped his chin in her hand and studied his eyes in fascination.

"My goodness," she whispered in unadulterated awe. "They're downright pretty, Remy." She looked even closer. "Did ya know that the red kinda sizzles on the edges? Looks kinda like burnin' embers after a fire."

"Y-ya don' t'ink 'm a demon?"

"A demon? Of course not! Is that what those yahoos were callin' ya?" She pulled him into a hug. "Remy, you're too sweet a kid to be a demon. Don't you ever think that, you hear me?"

Remy smiled against Margaret's arm. Now there was another person besides his mother who thought he wasn't bad. It was a nice feeling, he realized; kind of like when his brother, Henri, use to take him out into the Quarter, just the two of them. He wished the rest of the people would act like his _maman_ and Margaret did around him so he wouldn't get that 'bad feeling' anymore.

"Feelin' better, sweetie?" Margaret asked as she pulled back from him a little.

"_Oui."_ He showered her with a wide grin and then reached for his sunglasses again. But before he had a chance to don them, she caught her arm.

"You're gonna stop hidin', Remy. There's no need for it anymore. We're gonna make the folks in this town accept you for who you are, whether they like it or not." There was finality in her voice, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

----

~ I know, I know! I did it again! I said something was gonna happen and then it didn't! And yes, it _is_ my fault. (I can hear all the death threats now.) Once again, I had to cut the chapter in half. Originally, it was supposed to be much longer . This is what I get when I declare a 'break day' after posting a chapter. It eventually turns itself into a 'break week.' And then when I finally get the urge to start writing again, Real Life rears its ugly head and steals all my time away.


	3. Mary

**Disclaimer: **I feel adventurous today. I'm going to forego the disclaimer and see what happens. I mean, it's not like Marvel's gonna start pointing guns at me and threatening my life, right? *bottomless pit suddenly appears beneath feet* Oh, for the love of -- !

**A/N: **Okay, I told myself to jump right into this chapter after posting the last one, which I did. However, I didn't take into account the time I had to spend researching -- not that I utilized everything I researched! So anyway, that's my lame, half-assed excuse for the week! ; )

~ T., Mag Carter, Jean1, Lucky439, Christy S, Katalina, Sarah Coldheart, Kia Purity -- Thank you so much! Your encouragement means a lot! *calls out elves to distribute candy canes* (Yup, that's right, I've got elves! I'm _that_ influential. : )

~ ishandahalf -- You can tie yourself into a straitjacket unassisted?! Wow! That's talent, my friend! ; ) So, from what I can shift out of your post (Much appreciation, btw, for the long reviews!) you had two main concerns, both of which are addressed in the following chapter. Hope that helped, 'cause Lord knows most of the time I'm useless when it comes to things like that! ; )

~ Bitchy Little Pixy -- First off, _love_ your screen name! Damn, why didn't I think of that? Second, glad to know I'm not the only looney toon around here! We should all get together and form a club or something! And lastly, Rogue? I don't know... I'm just the writer. The plot bunnies don't tell me anything...

~ Matthew -- Thank you for the kind words about the story! At this point, I'm debating whether or not I should feel sorry for you. Of all the stories you could have come across on this site, you stumbled upon the one with the author whose fics come with high-risk insanity factors attached to them. ; ) Nonetheless, welcome back to ff.n!

~ Sujakata -- Well, I can tell you that the flashbacks are an integral part of the story so I doubt we've seen the last of them. That being said, I gotta ask, where the heck did you get postal pigeons?! We've already got more than our fair share of rabid plot bunnies running rampantly around the site! We can't handle another species from the animal kingdom!

~ Disturbed Courtney -- You can put on your own straitjacket too?! Why aren't you people on some kind of TV show? Oh, before I forget… *wrestles little Remy out of Courtney's grasp* He has to finish the story! Let go! Courtney! Don't make me sic Rogue on you!

~ TrinityC -- Okay, so let's recap, shall we? We have two people who can slip into their own straitjackets, and now TrinityC's singing karaoke while hanging off a cliff! Can nobody else see the TV potential here?!

~ lovelyaceinthehole -- Thank you very much! I appreciate the time you took to tell me exactly which scenes appealed to you and why. At least I know I'm not screwing up completely!

M E R R Y C H R I S T M A S !

and

H A P P Y N E W Y E A R !

**CHAPTER 3  
Mary**

"So I bet you're wonderin' why we came over," the Sheriff commented, bringing the coffee mug to his lips while watching Remy from over the rim.

The nineteen-year-old Cajun's eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "De t'ought did cross m'mind," he responded casually. But in truth, Remy was sure he already knew the answer.

The entire town had singled him out since the time he was seven. Whenever something troublesome or out of the ordinary occurred in Hazard, the first person that came to everyone's minds was little Remy LeBeau. They were quick to think of him when Molly Cliffton tripped and broke her leg not three feet away from him. Or when the high school star quarterback came down with a severe case of pneumonia after eating in the diner. They even went so far as to whisper his name in connection with the dry spell they experienced one season. It didn't matter how ridiculous the speculations sounded, they were sure that everything odd that occurred within their town was somehow a result of Remy's presence.

The Devil's Spawn, as some called him. No normal child should have been born with eyes that burned like fire, they said. Of course, the words were not supposed to reach Remy's ears, but with Hazard's entire population murmuring them back and forth, it was impossible not to overhear. The town's tall tales burned through the grapevine for several years before slowly but steadily dying down. Just as Margaret had promised, the townsfolk had gotten used to his unusual eyes. Though still slightly favoring the other children over him, they more or less accepted Remy into the community.

Until the young boy became a young man. Puberty hit Remy during his twelfth year, and along with it, his rather destructive kinetic powers announced their arrival -- in a none too subtle manner. The first time his mutant abilities manifested, several full-grown trees simply exploded in the blink of an eye. Remy was lucky that the nearby houses were spared from the resulting inferno. The incident, however, resurrected the whispers and murmurs that had been dead for a number of years. If possible, they were stronger and more outrageous than before.

Remy soon learned to erect a shell around himself as protection against the hurtful words that floated about. He would pretend that it didn't bother him at all, but both Margaret and his mother knew better. The jovial manner and devil-may-care attitude fooled neither of them. Remy was learning to become a loner as a defense against the stories being stirred up about him.

With that reminder suddenly popping to the forefront of his brain, Remy wondered what he'd done -- or rather hadn't done -- to set off the residents of Hazard that time. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the Deputy wandered over to inspect the framed photos once more. It struck Remy as odd that both men were so interested in that particular part of the room. He caught what was supposed to be a discreet glance between them and wondered at its meaning. But before he could dwell any longer on the exchange, the Sheriff spoke up.

"You know Reverend Johnson's girl? Marie?" he asked, fixing his gaze on the young man before him. "You two are pretty close, aren't you?"

Outwardly, Remy's demeanor didn't change. Inwardly, he was confused.

_Marie?_

- oOo -

It was another lazy summer afternoon. The sun was unrelenting in the sky, glaring at the earth intensely. His forehead creased in exertion as he fought against a particularly stubborn nut and bolt. Eventually, Remy felt the bits loosen beneath his wrench. With a grunt of satisfaction, he straightened and began alternatively stretching both his arms to work out the kinks. He then peeled off his shirt and used the cloth to wipe the sweat from his brow. He stared at the piece of machinery standing before him. It was still far from anything that resembled 'good working condition,' but he was determined to return it to its former glory.

A long, low whistle drew his attention. He turned to see a young girl standing in the garage's Main Street entrance.

"That's some piece o' work," she commented, smiling amicably.

From the distance that separated them, Remy could see that she was tall for her age, but still a couple of inches shorter than he was. Her face bordered the fine line between youthful and mature. He estimated that she was also sixteen years old, if not younger.

Her words, as well as her whistling, stroked a cord in his male ego. He was standing, shirtless, next to a piece of fine motoring hardware. Which 'piece of work' was she referring to?

He cocked an eyebrow and let a tiny smirk play across his lips. "_Merci, chère._ I work out." He could see the slight blush that rose to her cheeks when he deliberately misconstrued her words.

"Ah was talkin' about that," she corrected, pointing to the motorcycle he'd been working on.

With mock disappointment, he said, "Oh." He threw a grin in her direction to let her know he'd been teasing her.

She returned it with one of her own and moved further into the garage, examining his handiwork. "Nice choice. A Harley FXB Sturgis. Early eighties?"

He paused a moment, startled that she would know the manufacturer much less the model of the bike. "Eighty-two," he confirmed.

"How's it run?"

"It doesn't. Bought it from a guy couple o' towns over. His poppa was de original owner. T'ing was, he died less dan a year after he got it from de dealer. His son's been keepin' it in deir garage all dis time -- in mem'ry o' his poppa, 'cause he loved de bike so much."

A look of sorrow came across her features as she turned back to the motorcycle. "That's so sad."

"_Oui,"_ he replied, taking in a deep breath to continue his impromptu tale. "De son didn' share his poppa's enthusiasm f'r bikes, but he jus' couldn't bring himself t'sell it 'til now. S'been over a decade since someone's ridden her, much less turned de ignition. Engine needs t'be looked at, maybe change couple o' parts, work on de rust spots an' give it a new paint job. Plus I plan on addin' in some o' m'own modifications."

"Looks like you've got yoah work cut out fo' ya. But at least you got somethin' ta work with. You ain't startin' from scratch. You could be done with ev'rythin' in 'bout six months or so."

"I could," he agreed, picking up the wrench he'd left on the ground, "if I were workin' on it ev'ryday. T'ing is, I barely get in an hour each week."

"Busy chasin' skirts?"

He smirked. "Somet'in' like dat."

She turned back to the bike. "Eighty-two, huh? Did you know that was th' last year o' FXB production?"

Again he was shocked by her knowledge of what was primarily considered 'boys' toys.'

"Li'l bit o' trivia," she added, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "They also had to layoff almost half o' their workforce that year."

"Was also de time dey started de custom-paint program. Not t'disrespect de deceased or not'in', but lima bean green?"

"Ah was gonna ask you 'bout that. 'Til you mentioned th' new paint job yoah gonna do."

"Any suggestions, _chère?"_

"Ah'd go fo' pure black, if Ah were you," she said thoughtfully. "Black's always classic."

He smiled. "I'll take dat under advisement." He walked slowly over to his workbench and deposited the wrench he was carrying. "So how is it dat a pretty _femme_ like yaself knows so much 'bout bikes?"

Dryly, she replied, "Ah don' know if Ah should take that as a compliment or an incredibly sexist remark that only guys can know 'bout stuff like this."

"How 'bout we stick wit' de first one?"

"All right," she conceded, smiling. "Mah daddy has a friend who's a motorcycle nut. He restores them an' then sells them off ta dealers. He usually handles th' older models, though -- fifties, sixties, sometimes older. Ah used ta help him out a lot." Her eyes brightened as an idea struck her. "Ah could help you, too. That is, if you wouldn't mind."

Remy nearly choked at that statement. Combining his two favorite hobbies, motorcycles and pretty girls? There wasn't even need to mule over the decision.

"On one condition," he stipulated. He could have sworn her face fell slightly at those words.

"What?"

"You give me de pleasure o' knowin' ya name."

"Oh!" She suddenly became flustered. "Where are mah manners? Here we've been talkin' fo' a good ten, fifteen minutes an' we ain't even been properly introduced."

"Well, if we're gon' be proper 'bout it den I'll be a gentleman an' start." He made a show of bowing formally, one hand at his stomach, the other across his back. "_Bonjour, mademoiselle. Je suis Remy LeBeau_ [Good day, miss. I am Remy LeBeau]."

Dropping into a curtsy, she returned with, "_Bon après-midi, monsieur. Je m'appelle Marie Johnson_ [Good afternoon, sir. My name is Marie Johnson]."

Once again he looked at her in amazement. "_Parlez vous Français, chèrie?_ [You speak French?]"

"Kinda. Ah understand it more'n Ah can speak it."

_Mmm. When will dis fille stop surprisin' me?_ He flung his discarded shirt over one shoulder. "So since you offered t'help fix up de bike, I'm gon' assume ya moved inta town?"

"Jus' t'day, actu'lly. Daddy's th' new reverend ovah at th' church." She fingered the handlebar of the motorcycle. "So Ah guess Ah'll be seein' you there ev'ry Sunday."

He shook his head. "'Fraid not, _chère._ 'M Catholic, born an' raised."

She smiled wryly. "Ah shoulda figured. New Orleans?"

"Yup. An' yaself?"

"Mississippi. Down by th' river. Jus' like this town." She glanced at him hesitantly and then shyly inquired, "Remy, Ah know we jus' met an' all, but could Ah ask ya somethin'?"

He had a feeling he already knew what she was going to ask. "Sure, _petite._ What's on ya mind?"

"Yoah eyes... are they really like that?"

Bingo. In the back of his mind, Remy wondered how long it would be before the rumors hit her full force. He was pretty sure that once she'd heard them all her offer to help with the Harley would 'mysteriously' disappear.

"Uh-huh. Had dem all m'life." He didn't really feel like elaborating any further than that. Why bother when she would more than likely walk out the door and never return?

Marie fell silent. Then slowly, she raised a hand to her hair and undid the binding. Remy was surprised to see the sharp contrast of brilliant white against her auburn locks. It had been skillfully hidden within the complicated folds of her French braid.

"Ah'm usually not too shy 'bout it, but Ah didn' want ta go through all th' curious stares an' questions on mah first day in town," she said by way of explanation.

Remy nodded. He knew the feeling.

"Marie?" a voice called from outside the garage. "Honey?"

"Ah'm in here, Daddy!"

A tall, middle-aged man with the same shade of brown hair as Marie appeared in the entryway. "There you are, sweetheart. Ah just passed by th' general store. Ah think we should stop in before we head home and see what we'll be needing."

"Sure." Marie took her father's hand and led him over to Remy. "Daddy, this is Remy LeBeau. Remy, this is mah father, David Johnson."

"How're you doing, son?" Reverend Johnson greeted warmly, extending his hand.

With a nod, Remy accepted it. "Can' complain, _m'sieu._ An' yaself?"

"Good, good. Weather's kind of hot today, isn't it?" the older man asked conversationally. But Remy caught the quick and meaningful look toward the shirt hanging from his shoulder. The tone he was using wasn't the typical are-you-trying-to-seduce-my-daughter-I'm-threatening-you-with-your-life-if-you-are type of tone. It was more of a gentle suggestion, a warm warning towards propriety.

"Not'in' out o' de ordinary actu'lly," Remy replied, slipping back into his shirt.

The Reverend smiled. "Well, we should be going, Marie. Still have a lot of unpacking ta do. It was nice meeting you, Remy."

"You too."

"Bye, Remy," Marie said, about to follow her father out the door.

"Marie," he called. He waited for her to turn before adding, "Jus' wonderin' what grade you'll be in come fall."

"What grade will _you_ be in?"

"Eleventh."

She smiled sadly. "That's too bad. Ah'm a year behind you; Ah'm gonna be a sophomore. But it's a small school, right?" She resumed her trek out of the garage. "Maybe Ah'll make a pest out o' mahself an' hang around you constantly."

Remy grinned as she disappeared around the corner. He certainly hoped she would.

- oOo -

"Hey."

Marie turned from the contents of her locker to come face to face with Remy. "Hey yoahself, sugah."

"You busy?"

"Yes," she answered sorrowfully. "Ah am swamped with th' strenuous activity o' gettin' out o' this school before th' teachers decide ta add anothah period ta our day."

"Well den, have no fear, _petite._ I'm here t'whisk you away from dis hellhole. Follow me."

Ten minutes later they were walking through a grassy field and turning into a small cluster of trees.

"Where are we goin', Remy? Main Street would be a li'l ways more down that road we got off of."

"I'm hurt, _chère._ Don' you trust me?"

"Not if yoah gonna lead me inta a snake pit, no."

He laughed. "Jus' want t'show you somet'in'. Don' worry so much." Lifting a low-hanging branch, he gestured her forward. "After you, _mademoiselle."_

"Why thank you, kind sir," she drawled, deliberately emphasizing her accent even more.

"Keep goin' straight. You'll know when we get dere," he informed her when she hesitated before him. "So how was ya first week in de nuthouse?"

She threw him a smile from over her shoulder. "C'mon now, school ain't _that_ bad."

"Not f'r some," he joked, but Marie could hear a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"It's been okay so far. Ev'ryone's pretty friendly. Oh!" She turned suddenly to face him, an enigmatic smile tugging at her lips.

"_Quoi?_ [What?]"

"Th' guidance counselor was suggestin' that Ah take some extra credit classes an' guess what Ah took."

"Mrs. Roberts' course on needlepoint?"

She looked at him in indignation before swatting him on the arm. "No!"

"What, ya too good f'r needlepoint?"

"French class, ya swamp rat! Ah'm takin' up French!"

Although he didn't show it, secretly he was pleased. At least there was one way they could break down the academic barrier of junior and sophomore status that separated them in school. He forced a look of perplexity and timidity onto his features. "You tryin' t'stalk me, _chère?_ First, comin' t'de place where I work, an' now takin' m'classes. We should t'ink 'bout maybe gettin' you some professional help."

She scowled at him before turning on her heel and venturing forward once more. "Ah'm seriously beginnin' ta wonder why Ah hung out with you all summer."

"'Cause o' de charmin' good looks an' debonair style."

"Yeah well, far as Ah can tell, those qualities are gettin' overshadowed by th' cocky attitude." She stepped past the last of the trees and came to a stop just before the riverbank. The river itself was fairly quiet, flowing with the untroubled ease of a baby sleeping. The trees that lined both banks were a good couple of feet from the water's edge, their branches drooping down and shading the area with a canopy of leaves. "It's beautiful."

"Ya like it?"

Nodding, she remarked, "It reminds me o' th' ol' Mississippi back home."

"T'ought it might. C'mon," he said, motioning her to follow him once again. He led her further up the river until they came to a large fallen tree. The ample trunk stretched before them like an organically designed sitting area in Mother Nature's living room.

"How perfect!" she exclaimed, resting her books on the bark and hoisting herself up. "Lord, Ah think Ah could sit here all day an' not get tired o' th' view."

He nestled down beside her. "Know 'sactly what you mean, _chère."_

There was something about his words that made Marie feel he'd done just that on a number of occasions.

"How'd this tree get like this?" she asked, hoping to get his mind off whatever had started to bother him.

"Tornado passed t'rough here 'bout five years ago, knocked her down clean. But her roots are still secure in de ground; she's still growin', jus' sidetracked a li'l. Kinda like people, I guess." He smiled, returning to his previous devilish manner. "But de best part is behind us."

"Huh? What're you -- ?" Following his gaze, she caught sight of the small, hidden area at their backs. It looked big enough to hold at least four people comfortably and she was willing to bet that it was perfectly concealed from view.

"I used t'come here a lot. Jus' hang out an' t'ink a bit."

"'Used to'? You don' anymore?"

"Haven' been out here in a while, not since I started workin' at de garage last year. Any free time I've got goes t'helpin' m' _maman_ or fixin' up de Harley wit' you."

She pretended to frown at him. "You should've taken me here sooner, Remy. It looks a lot like Caldecott. 'Cept that th' river's a li'l smaller, o' course."

"O' course." He glanced at her. "You wan' lay down an' rest some?"

Looking at him quizzically, she replied, "On th' tree bark? Kinda uncomfo'table, don'cha think, sugah?"

He smirked. "Not on de tree, on de grass in de li'l 'cove' in back o' us."

"Ah don' know, Cajun. You know how hard it is ta get grass stains outta yoah clothes?"

"Well den, make sure you don' roll around in it like a dog, _belle."_ He slipped down from the trunk and into the shelter of trees. He pulled a large checkered blanket from out of his bag. With several flicks of his wrists, he shook it out and spread it along the ground. He made a show of bowing to her and indicating the covered grass. "Ya bed awaits you, _mademoiselle."_

At the word 'bed,' Marie stiffened. "Remy LeBeau, did you bring me out here ta try an' seduce me? 'Cause Ah can tell ya right now, Ah'm not gonna stand fo' somethin' like that, mistah."

He blinked at both the speed with which she delivered her words and the words themselves. "_Non, petite._ S'not'in' like dat. S'jus'... jus' t'ought I'd share dis spot wit' you. I mean, we've been gettin' along great f'r de past couple o' months an' I..." He sighed. With more confidence, he declared, "Look, maybe dis was a bad idea. Maybe we should jus' head on home."

She slid down next to him. "No, Ah'm sorry, Remy. It's jus' that... well, you gotta admit that it looks kinda suspicious. Ah mean, secluded area, romantic settin', _blanket."_ She pointed to the cloth beneath their feet.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, he quipped, "Ya t'ink pretty highly o' yaself, _chère,_ if you believe I look at you in _dat_ way."

"That goes double fo' me, Cajun." She gathered her books and settled down on the blanket.

He watched as she opened one book and began thumbing through the pages. "Homework?" he asked.

"One o' th' finer points o' high school. Teachers load on more assignments than even th' good Lord would approve of. Ah'm surprised you ain't bogged down with them yet."

Stretching out, he drew his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. "Who said I ain't? I jus' got a more effective system."

"You wait 'til th' last minute an' then cram like crazy?"

He grinned back at her. "Knew dere was a reason we're such good friends."

"Well, Ah don' have th' luxury o' yoah slaphappy lifestyle. School's always been kinda hard fo' me an' Ah gotta work at it."

"Why?"

"What d'you mean why? Don' you think finishin' high school's important?"

He shrugged.

"Well, Ah do. Ah'm never gonna get out o' these small-time towns if Ah don' apply mahself." She glanced down at him. "What're you gonna do aftah high school?"

"Don' really know. Never really t'ought much 'bout leavin' Hazard. Dis is where m' _maman_ plans on stayin' an' 'm not sure I could leave her by herself. What 'bout you? You plan on goin' off t'college in a big city?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "Well, college is still up in th' air at this point, but Ah do wanna travel up ta New York. Ah mean, Ah love mah daddy an' ev'rythin', but sometimes Ah jus' feel like there's somethin' missin'. Y'know?"

He nodded in understanding. "So you jus' gon' go sightseein' or do you actu'lly plan on havin' money an' makin' a livin' up dere?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

Remy almost did laugh at the cautious expression on her face. "Cajun's honor," he swore with a wink.

"Like that's worth anythin'," she muttered.

"Ahh c'mon, _chère._ Promise I won't laugh."

"All right." She took a deep breath. Casting one last glance at him, she announced, "Ah want ta go ta New York ta become an actress." She waited for him to burst out into hysterics. When he didn't, she turned to look at him. He was serenely regarding her, as if he expected her to continue with what she was sharing. "What, no snappy comment 'bout how ridiculous it is?"

"No," he answered soberly. "Why should I laugh at someone else's dreams? If it's important enough t'be considered a dream, den it's important enough t'take seriously."

She was humbled by his response. "Thank you," she whispered.

He acknowledged her with a slight smile. "You gon' remember me when ya a big star out dere in de world?"

"'Course Ah will," she said cheerfully. "Ah'll come back here ta Hazard an' pick you an' yoah momma an' mah daddy up on mah private jet. An' then we'll all go off ta eat dinner in some city in Europe."

"Which city?"

"Whichevah ya want. It's mah private plane, ain't it?"

"Dat's a nice dream, _petite._ Don' you lose dat, y'hear?"

She laid down on her stomach next to him. "What 'bout you, Remy? Don' you have a dream?"

He looked at her sadly. "T'ink I f'rgot how t'dream, _chèrie."_

The melancholy behind his words almost broke her heart. Although she'd spent a lot of her time in Remy's company over the past few months, she still didn't know that much about him. She knew he and his mother were originally from Louisiana, and that they moved to Hazard when he was just a boy, but the other details were sketchy at best. The rest of the townsfolk had been more than eager to share the gossip and stories they'd been fabricating over the years. But she simply couldn't equate the 'devil' in their stories with the charming, sharp-witted boy she met her first day in town.

She glanced at him once more. His head was turned toward the fallen tree next to them, looking out into the clear country sky. She couldn't help but think how peaceful he looked, as if being in that one spot, out of all others on Earth, was enough to settle his restless spirit.

"Remy," she began, drawing his attention back to her. "Ah've been meanin' ta ask you. Yoah... yoah a mutant too, right? Like me?"

He studied her a moment before answering, "_Oui."_

"Can you do stuff? Ah mean, do ya have powers?"

Instead of responding, he began rustling through his bag. Finally, he pulled out a can of soda. He stood up and placed the can several feet away from them, further into the cluster of trees. She watched in fascination as he seemed to meditate over the can, touching the top softly with his finger. She noticed a faint hint of pink spreading across it. Eventually, he rose and retook his seat next to her. She eyed him curiously as he found a pebble lying close to their blanket. With a precision that astounded her, he tossed the pebble towards the can. It skimmed off the top and exploded in a fountain of soda and aluminum.

"Wow," she breathed. "How'd you do that?"

He shrugged. "Don' really know. Jus' know dat I c'n make an object glow like dat. Den when somet'in' hits it, it explodes."

"An' ya know how ta control it?"

"Didn' used to. Took me a while t'get it under control." He gestured to the area outside their cove. "Dat's why I came here a lot when I was younger; I was tryin' t'handle m'powers. De whole place was a bunch o' scorch marks. One o' de reasons nobody else would come near dis spot. Dey t'ought I was doin' all sorts o' black magic an' devilry."

"Wait a sec, you mastered yoah powers on yoah own?" she asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't actu'lly say I 'mastered' dem, _chère._ Dey're managed enough so I don' go 'round blowin' t'ings up."

"Even still, that's impressive."

Remy was pleased with the compliment. He'd never had the opportunity to talk about his powers in a positive light before. They had always been something to reign in, to be careful about. When you were capable of blowing a person away -- literally -- bragging about the ability seemed like the last thing to do. Especially in a town like Hazard.

"What 'bout you, _petite?"_ he asked. "C'n you do stuff?"

She smiled and set her book aside. Scooting closer to him, she took his hand in her own. As she peered down at their joined flesh, an expression of intense concentration came over her face. The look was so severe, Remy was afraid it would permanently mar her soft features. Closing her eyes, she knitted her brow even further. A moment later, she smiled again.

"You had bacon an' eggs fo' breakfast this mornin'," she reported, her eyes still shut. "With lots o' spices. An' you were jus' a couple o' seconds shy o' bein' late fo' first period," she gave him a disapproving look, "'cause you were watchin' a horror flick on TV last night."

"How did you know dat, _belle?_ You a mind-reader?"

"Kinda." She reached over and picked up a pebble. A familiar pink glow soon engulfed it. With a flick of her wrist, she threw the stone into the underbrush. A second later, a small pop was heard, followed by a thin wisp of smoke.

Remy turned to her in confusion, one eyebrow quirked in question.

"It's in th' touch," she explained, raising their joined hands for emphasis. "Whenevah Ah touch someone Ah can absorb their thoughts an' mem'ries. Since yoah a mutant, Ah can absorb yoah powers, too."

"So you got dem f'rever now?"

"No. Whenevah Ah borrow powers it's only temporary; Ah lose them eventually. Ah only had th' connection open fo' a li'l while so Ah didn' get much o' yoah mem'ries. But if Ah'd held on longer Ah could've seen yoah whole life."

He let out a low whistle. "Dat's a pretty cool power t'be havin', _chère."_

"If you would've told me that when they first came about, Ah'd've cussed you out fo' all Ah was worth."

"Why's dat?"

"'Cause mah powers come with their very own side effect. Whenevah they're activated, th' person Ah'm touchin' blacks out an' doesn't come to fo' some time."

"But ya touchin' me an' 'm jus' fine," he pointed out.

"Well, that's only 'cause Ah can control it now. Ah couldn't back then." She released his hand as the expression on her face grew distant. "We had a neighbor back in Caldecott; her name was Raven. She was a mutant too, an' she helped me ta learn how ta control mah powers.

"It was a really rough process. Th' first year Ah couldn't touch anybody; always had ta make sure Ah was covered from head ta foot. Can you imagine goin' through life that way? Not bein' able ta touch _anybody_ at all? Took Raven an' me almost three years ta do it but Ah certainly think it was worth it." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ah miss her."

"Do you still keep in touch wit' her?"

"No. Ah wrote her a couple o' letters since we moved out here but she hasn't written back."

A silence fell between them. It went on undisturbed for several minutes until Remy finally decided to break it. "Is dat what dat pullin' sensation was? Ya powers takin' a piece o' me?"

"Yeah. It didn' hurt you, did it?"

"_Non._ Jus' makes me wonder what would happen if you held on too long."

She sighed. "That's not 'sactly somethin' Ah wanna be thinkin' about. One time back home, Ah held onta a boy fo' too long an' he ended up in a coma fo' a week. Ah was walkin' 'round fo' th' longest time thinkin' how wrong it felt peein' sittin' down."

He cracked a smile at her comment, but then sobered when a thought hit him. "Does it hurt _you,_ Marie, when you use ya powers?"

Her eyes became distant once again. "Not anymore; it used to. Raven showed me how ta turn them on an' off. Most o' th' time Ah leave them off so Ah don' have ta worry 'bout bumpin' inta people. But whenevah Ah have them on, an' Ah'm stoppin' th' flow o' someone's mem'ries like Ah was doin' with you, Ah get kinda tired. Like Ah was runnin' 'round th' track in gym class all aftahnoon." She shook her head to clear it. "You know what, Ah'm gettin' sick o' talkin' 'bout mah powers. Let's talk 'bout somethin' else."

"All right," he conceded. "So ya t'inkin' o' headin' up t'New York after high school. How're you plan on gettin' over dere?"

She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Well... Ah figure walkin' is a sure thing. Plus, there's th' added bonus o' all that weight Ah'll lose. 'Course it'll take me 'bout a year ta get there, but it's not like Ah got an appointment or anythin'."

"Oh, ha-ha, _petite."_

She grinned. "Okay, fine. Honestly, Ah was thinkin' o' flyin' or maybe rentin' a car an' drivin', but both o' those options are gonna cost a lot o' money -- money that Ah don' have. So Ah figured Ah'd jus' catch a ride with anyone who's headin' East, maybe jus' share gas money or somethin'."

"Ya gon' hitchhike?! _Chère,_ are you crazy? Do you know how easy it would be f'r a psycho t'pick you up an' kill you wit'out a second t'ought?"

"Stop bein' so melodramatic, Cajun. People aren't as bad as yoah makin' them sound. 'Sides, Raven didn' teach me how ta defend mahself fo' nothin'."

"Nuh-uh," he declared, shaking his head firmly for emphasis, "you ain't hitchhikin' up t'New York."

She wanted to laugh at his overbearing expression. "Yoah bein' ridiculous, Remy. One, Ah ain't graduatin' fo' anothah three years. An' two, Ah don' 'sactly have a lot o' options, y'know."

"_I'll_ take you."

She did a double take. "What?"

"I'll take you," he repeated. "On de Harley. I'm sure we'll be done fixin' it up by den."

"We've only been friends fo' a couple o' months..." she said, astounded by his offer.

"So?"

"So, yoah offerin' ta ride halfway across th' country with someone you jus' meet a couple o' months ago?"

"You were t'inkin' 'bout hitchhikin' wit' people you didn' even know."

"Ah know but they wouldn't be goin' out o' their way fo' me."

"Can' 'sactly let you thumb a ride, now c'n I? An' you a preacher's daughter t'boot. How d'you t'ink I'd get inta Heaven wit' dat on m'shoulders?"

She was still shocked by his proposal, but passed it off as nothing more than friendly banter. After all, the date in question was still a handful of years away. No doubt he would eventually forget his casually thrown promise.

Playfully poking him in the chest, she warned, "You better watch what ya promise me, sugah. Ah'll hold you ta that yet."

- oOo -

"Remy?" Sheriff Miller waved his hand in front of the vapid expression on the young man's face. "Remy, did you hear what I said?"

Snapping back to attention, Remy blinked. "What?"

"I was askin' if you an' Marie Johnson were close."

Remy quickly regained his composure. "_Oui,"_ he replied. "I'd say so. We're friends."

The older man leaned back in his seat. "When was the last time you saw her?"

Remy's mind whirled. Where were these questions leading? "Why?" he asked.

"Just answer the question, Remy," Deputy Stephens ordered.

"_Non."_ The two men looked almost shocked at his outright defiance. "I'm sorry, _m'sieus,_ but what's goin' on?"

He saw another look being exchanged between them, neither bothering to conceal their actions. In the end, it was the Sheriff who answered him.

Watching intently for Remy's reaction, he said, "We got a call from the Reverend early this mornin'. Marie never made it home last night."

----

*GASP!*

All hail the return of the cliffhanger!  
(C'mon, guys! You knew there had to be at _least_ one!)


	4. By the River

**Disclaimer: ***sets up large diagram* All right, people, take note that all the characters on this list -- and yes, it's a _long_ list -- are licensed to Marvel. We can play around with them, screw up their personalities until they're nigh near unrecognizable, and create the most inane pairings that our imaginations can fathom. But at the end of the day we have to reseal them in their plastic wrapping and return them to their proper, upright position. Those that don't comply... Well, how the heck should I know? No one's ever been foolish enough to not comply before!

**A/N: **Okay, so it's been over a month since my last update. What mediocre excuse do I have for y'all today? Let's see, there was another self-declared 'break week,' the insanely insane Christmas season, the much anticipated (and much drooled over) _LotR: the Two Towers_ -- though I consider _that_ to be a very valid, very acceptable excuse to begin with -- and the fact that I got stuck on this chapter because of research -- which, incidentally, won't even be used until the _next_ chapter. So there you have it... my excuses are weak, my reasoning faulty. Feel free to chew me out by the time you get to the end of this. : )

* WARNING: Stupid ramblings dead ahead. If you want your sanity intact I suggest you skip on over to the next asterisk.

~ 'anonymous,' Lynn P., T., Lucky439, TrinityC, Sujakata, girlonthemoon, KarenSedai - Kibou no Tenshi -- You guys are amazing! Thanks so much for taking the time to review!

~ ishandahalf -- All right, that is officially the _longest_ review I have ever received! Not only is it the longest, but it also has the most exclamation points (77) and periods (85) that I have seen in one post! (And no, I did not count them by hand! I had Word do it for me. ; ) And you had me laughing out loud for most of it! I'd send you a trophy but I don't think it'd fit in an email... ; )

~ Bitchy Little Pixy -- Another one that made me smile! You all should think of being on a comedy show or something. ; ) As for the Mary/Marie thing you were wondering about, don't worry, there's a reason for it. I'll explain exactly what that is later on. (I'm spewing out useless information once again!)

~ Rupeshwari -- *glares at cute, fluffy plot bunnies* All right, which one of you stole that review? And don't go looking all innocent and doe-eyed at me! I know what you're capable of, you devious little fuzz balls!

~ Disturbed Courtney -- I know what you mean about the name Marie for Rogue. (No offense meant, of course, to those who like that name for her!) The first thing I thought was 'It doesn't fit her personality.' Don't get me wrong, people, I _love_ the name Marie. It's pretty in its simplicity. But it just seems too... feminine for Rogue. I always pictured her having a more unisex name, maybe even a boy's name, because she's somewhat tomboyish: kinda rough around the edges but still a lady. I got used to 'Marie' after awhile, but mostly I disassociate Movie-Marie from Comic Book-Rogue 'cause they seem so different in their demeanors. Why then use that name in this fic? Well, like I said to Bitchy Little Pixy, there _is_ a reason for it. (Dammit! The useless information is running amuck!)

~ JADEOBLUE -- Whew! Thanks for the save! Stupid bottomless pits are gonna be the death of me... Blinker fluid? *snicker* Good one! : ) "So does that mean there's only gonna be one cliffhanger?" ... umm... you DO remember _After Midnight,_ don't you? (Hehe! Shameless plug! Shameless plug!) Btw, I tried your liquor-filled carrots idea. Now the bunnies are rabid _and_ drunk. One word, HELP!

~ Kia Purity -- *gasp!* Chibi Gambit plushie! Gimme! Gimme! *runs off to corner with toy while angry readers demand chapter* Shush! I'm busy here! Chibi Remy!

~ missy42 -- The poker games are going good. We were actually expecting you at the last one. Kinda hard to reveal your winning hand when all your opponents have the ability to charbroil your butt within an inch of your life! ; )

~ Christy S -- Again, no offense meant by my comments to Courtney. That's just my mindless opinion anyway. : )

~ jelispar -- If the cliffhangers do kill somebody it's probably gonna be me. They always take the nutty people first. : ) And may I ask, "pancreatic transplants"? You've been thinking about this, haven't you? ; ) And yes, my muse has decided to extend his lifespan by purchasing a suit of armor. Damn thing weighs like three hundred pounds. I'm waiting for him to fall on his face so I can start laughing my ass off...

* Wow, those of you who _didn't_ take the detour past the shout outs, you are brave to have waded through all that!

* During my month-long hiatus, I started thinking -- *gasp!* Me, thinking? No way! *shudder*. Since my posts are getting a little more sporadic I thought I'd propose an EMAIL UPDATE LIST. Just to let you guys know whenever I get a chapter or even a new story up. For those of you who're interested, let me know where I can reach you.

**CHAPTER 4  
By the River**

"All right, _chère," _Remy called out as he approached their wooded cove along the river. He could just make out the distinctive white tresses that marked his best friend's presence. "What's so important dat I had t'come _right_ after school?"

Marie's voice filtered back to him from behind the fallen tree, carried over by the light wind caressing his face. "Come ovah here, Cajun. Ah'm nice an' comfy, an' Ah don' wanna get up anymore."

"You haven't even made it outta Hazard yet an' you already sound like one o' dem movie actresses," he half grumbled as he climbed over the tree trunk and dropped down next to her. He was tempted to shield his eyes from the death glare she was pelting him with.

"Comments like that are gonna get you thrown out o' mah private jet by mah bodyguards a thousand feet up in th' air, swamp rat."

"Hey, people pay good money t'do stuff like dat."

"Yes, but those people have parachutes," she informed him sweetly. "Ah'll make sure that you don' get one."

"Nice t'know you still care, _petite," _he said, stretching out beside her. The cool grass beneath them further softened the blanket she had spread out. "You gon' tell me why we cancelled workin' on de Harley?"

She reached over and began rustling through her bag. "Lauren went out o' state ta visit some relatives ovah th' weekend," she began.

"An' dis concerns us why?"

"'Cause she got us these." She pulled out several pieces of folded glossy paper.

"Brochures?"

"Brochures o' _New York," _she clarified, handing the bundle to Remy then digging into her bag once again. "_And_ a map o' th' city." She unfolded the map and began pointing out the sights to him. "See, this is th' Statue o' Liberty. That's Central Park. There's th' Empire State Buildin'. Th' Brooklyn Bridge -- "

"You sure you weren't a New Yorker in ya past life?" he teased.

She smiled as she turned on her side to face him, setting aside the map and then reaching for the papers he held in his hand. Choosing one, she excitedly spread it out between them. "Isn't it beautiful, Remy? All alive an' full o' activity. So many people packed inta one small city." She rested her head against his shoulder, pulling the rest of her body closer to his. "Ah bet if you stood on th' sidewalk in Times Square, a person from ev'ry corner o' th' globe would walk by you within a day. It's jus' that diverse a city."

"You t'ink?"

"Uh-huh. Betcha they don' even blink an eye when it comes ta mutants neither."

He tilted his head toward her slightly, until his lips brushed gently against her forehead. "What makes you say dat, _chèrie?" _

"Ah don' know... jus' hopin' they don't. A city with so many lifestyles an' so many walks o' life is bound ta be open-minded 'bout people, right? Less prejudice 'bout folks who're diff'rent?"

"Dere's prejudice wherever you go, Marie," he told her. "Even de most open-minded man has someone he hates."

She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him sternly. "When did you get so pessimistic, Remy LeBeau?"

He shrugged.

"It ain't one o' yoah more charmin' personality traits, let me tell ya," she continued. "Not that you had all that many ta begin with." Returning to her earlier position at his side, she said, "Folks aren't as bad as you think they are, Remy. Most o' them are good people. Jus' you wait, Ah'll straighten you out soon enough."

"Ya welcome t'try, _chère," _he murmured, "but I doubt you'll have much success."

"Well, Ah'm not givin' up on you. You ain't a hopeless case yet."

"I'm not?" He winked down at her. "I'll try a lot harder t'become one den."

Marie's response was a deep yawn, which she covered with her hand. "Yoah lucky Ah'm sleepy right this minute, Cajun," she muttered, snuggling closer to him, "else Ah'd say somethin' real unladylike. You mind if we took a nap t'day 'stead o' goin' ovah ta th' garage? Ah didn' get much shuteye last night..."

Remy watched her eyes droop until they were nearly closed. He couldn't help but think how adorable she looked trying to resist the heavy hand of sleep. "You ain't givin' me much choice, now are ya, _petite?" _he chastened gently. "Ya already out like a light."

"... am not." But her eyes were already shut and her breathing had evened out.

"Are too," he whispered, pulling her fallen sweater back onto her shoulder and brushing a few tendrils of hair from her face. A cool breeze found its way into their cove, causing the branches above to murmur a soothing lullaby. He looked down at the young girl nestled against him and smiled. When he was younger, he'd often imagine what the faces of God's angels looked like. Innocent. Beautiful. Serene. His visions didn't even come close to the peaceful expression that overtook Marie as she slept. Tranquility personified, he thought, just before he closed his own eyes and followed her into sleep.

Hours later, he was jerked awake when Marie suddenly jumped as if she'd been burned.

"_Chère?" _he asked, imitating her movements and sitting up. He placed the palm of his hand flat on her back and began rubbing it back and forth in a calming motion. The tranquil expression he had witnessed earlier was all but erased from her features. "What's de matter?"

She was quiet for a few moments, squeezing her eyes closed and trying to regain her composure. Finally, she said, "It's okay... Ah'm fine."

"Bad dream?"

She nodded.

The fact that she still had her head turned away concerned him. "You wan' talk 'bout it?"

Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled. "Not much ta say. Ah can't even really remember any o' it. Jus' recall feelin'... trapped. Couldn't get out. Couldn't breathe."

He observed her quietly before asking, "Why does dat scare you so much?"

"What?"

"Stayin' here. Stayin' in small towns like Hazard. Ya poppa's a preacher. Dey c'n get transferred from parish t'parish all de time. Seems like you should be use t'life in small towns by now, seein' as you've lived in dem since you were a pup."

She looked at him incredulously. "What are ya talkin' 'bout, sugah? What's that got ta do with mah dream jus' now?"

"It's got ev'ryt'in' t'do wit' it, Marie. You feel trapped here. Dat's why ya so itchin' t'get t'New York. T'de big city." He tucked his fingers under her chin and gently forced her to face him. "You don' like it here all dat much, dat's no secret t'me. But you never told me why."

Marie hated it when Remy made his gaze as intense as he was making it in that instant. It was all she could do to not get lost in the blood red color of her best friend's eyes. It caused her head to spin, as if he were hypnotizing her somehow, not letting her think on her own. She wanted to pull away from him, to turn around and hide from the piercing stare that seemed to stab right into her soul, digging incessantly until it found the answers it was looking for.

"S'all right, _petite," _he soothed, sensing her hesitation. "You know I won't tell anyone anyt'in' you say."

She knew that. She honestly did. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that the words spoken between them would stay between them. But there were some secrets that were harder to reveal than others.

"Have... have you evah thought things were a certain way, only ta discover that they weren't exactly like that?"

Remy acknowledged her with a nod, even though her question appeared to be rhetorical. He fell silent as she pondered her next sentence.

"All throughout mah childhood Ah remember Momma an' Daddy bein' in love. Th' kind o' love that makes ya sick ta yoah stomach 'cause wherevah they'd go, they'd be holdin' hands an' kissin', whisperin' in each othah's ear. Ah'd pretend ta be embarrassed, but deep down, Ah loved it. Ah loved how they'd sit side by side on th' park bench watchin' me play, with Daddy's arm 'round Momma's shoulders. Ah loved how Momma would feed Daddy some o' her ice cream even though he had his own. Ah loved how Ah'd leave them talkin' in th' livin' room ta take mah afternoon nap, then come back hours later ta find them still there, still talkin'. It was somethin' Ah could always count on, somethin' Ah never had ta doubt. Momma loved Daddy, an' Daddy loved Momma. An' they both loved me, an' th' cozy li'l life we had in our small town. If a genie had appeared an' offered us three wishes, there wouldn't've been anythin' ta wish for. There wasn't anythin' else that th' three o' us wanted.

"Least that was what Ah thought. Daddy was out o' town fo' some seminar or somethin' an' it was jus' Momma an' me. We weren't doin' much, jus' sittin' by th' river watchin' th' water float by. All o' a sudden she asks me, 'You ever wonder if th' river thinks 'bout goin' someplace else, Marie?' Now Ah was six years old at th' time; Ah couldn't really understand analogies yet so Ah didn' know what Momma was talkin' about. She changed th' subject before Ah could answer but Ah could never shake th' look that was on her face. Took me an awful long while ta figure out jus' what it was.

"That day didn' come 'til Ah was nine. Momma'd gotten sick; actu'lly she'd been sick fo' a while. She was gettin' worse by th' day, an' Daddy said... he said..."

The very first tremor in her voice was the only sign Remy needed to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. He gently rocked her back and forth, whispering soothingly into her ear. "_Facile... prenez-le facile. C'est bien. _[Easy... take it easy. It's all right.] You don' have t'finish, _chèrie. _If it hurts too much we c'n stop."

She shook her head against his chest. "No... Ah wanna tell you." The hand gripping his arm tightened slightly, seeking strength from his embrace. Shakily, she took a deep breath. "Daddy said Momma... wouldn't be with us that much longer. That she was gonna... die." Once again, her voice caught in her throat and she was forced to pause.

Remy stroked the cinnamon strands of her hair. "I'm so sorry, _petite." _The pain of losing a loved one was all too familiar to his heart.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she continued. "Ah was sittin' with her when she started talkin'. She started tellin' me 'bout how she always dreamed o' bein' a singer. Now, Ah never knew this. Momma never really talked about her college days that much, an' Ah guess Ah never really thought ta ask. Ah always knew she had a beautiful voice, but Ah never knew someone had approached her 'bout becomin' a professional singer. Don' think she even told mah father about it."

She turned to Remy. "It took me three years but Ah finally realized what that look down by th' river was. It was regret. Regret fo' lettin' go o' her dream.

"Th' funny thing was, Momma never regretted marryin' Daddy or havin' me or livin' th' life we had. In fact, she loved it. But she told me that there was a part o' her soul, way back in th' farthest corner, that was always cryin' out, always wantin' ta be fulfilled -- an' never was. She made me promise, right then an' there, that no matter what happened ta me, no matter what choices Ah'd make in mah life, that Ah would always, _always_ work on mah dream." A distant glaze settled over her eyes as she watched old ghosts dance before her memory. "She died three days later."

A silence fell between them as they let the sounds of nature's orchestra absorb their thoughts. A flock of birds chatted away merrily as they cut through the clear skies overhead. The leaves and branches high above the earth waltzed softly to the music of the gentle wind. The river drifted leisurely down its predestined path, taking its time to noisily kiss the rocks and stones it met along the way.

"Did she know?" murmured Remy, finally breaking the stillness. "Did she know what ya dream was?"

"Ah never told her, but Ah think she knew." Her hand absently glided up and down his forearm. "Ah hope she knew."

The movements of her fingers were sending strange shivers through his body. "It'll come true, _chère. _Ya dream will come true. I promise."

She smiled at his prediction. There was no way for him to know that, but he said it anyway, with the simple intent of cheering her up.

Her eyes drifted toward the horizon. The golden orange was mesmerizing, to say the least, and she slowly stood. Holding out her hand to him, she said, "C'mon, Remy."

"Where we goin'?"

"Down th' river."

He followed her gaze as he climbed over the tree trunk. "Ahh, sunset... shoulda figured." He grinned at her. They began to stroll lazily along the waterside, toward the dying heat in the west.

"Remy, you think if we keep walkin' we could prevent th' sun from goin' down on us?" asked Marie when they were several feet away from their cove. The sun was tentatively touching the tip of the horizon.

With boundless confidence, he proclaimed, "Def'nitely." He turned to her. "But if we went an' did dat, we'd be late f'r dinner. Can't let dat happen. I'm a growin' boy, y'know; need m'nutrients."

She caught the gleam in his eye. "Growin's right." Poking him in the stomach, she teased, "Any fatter an' yoah gonna have ta think 'bout gettin' some new clothes."

"Oh, you are so dead now, _chère." _He reached out to grab her, but she danced out of his grasp and ran back up the river.

"C'mon, Cajun," she laughed over her shoulder, "runnin'll do ya some good. Catch me if you can!"

Smirking, he let her get a small head start before tearing down the river after her.

- oOo -

Remy stared at the Sheriff in disbelief. "_Que voulez-vous dire? _[What do you mean?]"

The older man blinked. "What?"

It took Remy a moment to realize that he had spoken in French, a habit of his whenever he was feeling any extreme emotion. In this case, an uneasy fear.

"_Je suis désolé, m'sieu_ [I am sorry, sir]. What did you say?"

"Marie never came home last night." The Sheriff glanced down the hallway toward the bedroom. Subtly, he inclined his head in its general direction. "She isn't...?"

Remy's eyes widened a fraction at the insinuation. "_Non. _She isn't."

"All right," Deputy Stephens interjected, "if she didn't spend the night with you, when _was_ the last time you saw her?"

The somewhat malicious tone that accompanied his inquiry irked the young Cajun. "Last night after dinner. We were s'pposed t'go t'de garage an' work a bit, but she said she jus' wanted t' t'ink a little."

"You walked her home?" the Sheriff questioned.

"_Non._ Left her by our cove, along de river. Dat's where we go whenever we want t'sort stuff out."

"Cove?"

"By de fallen tree at de river's edge, past de fields in de back o' town."

Sheriff Miller acknowledged his answer with a slight nod. "An' she didn't come by late last night? Or early this mornin'?"

Remy shook his head.

"Do you know if she's seein' anyone? A boy from school maybe?"

"She isn't."

"What about her girlfriends? Could she have spent the night at one of their houses?"

"_Non._ Marie isn't de type t'sleep away from home. She wakes up early t'help her _père_ around de house before goin' about her day." Another look was exchanged between the two law enforcers, but Remy was too worried and too frustrated to care. Irritably, he asked, "Are we done now, _m'sieus?" _

The Sheriff's attention snapped back to him. "For now, Remy. But we might need you to answer some more questions later on."

The young man nodded, and without another word, reached for his jacket behind the door. But before he could make it over the threshold, Deputy Stephens stopped him with a restraining hand to his chest.

"An' just where are you going?" he asked.

Remy all but snarled at the Deputy. "T'look f'r Marie."

"We're already doing that, son. You'd only get in the way."

He stared at the other man in shock. "She's my best friend!"

"Let us do our jobs, Remy," the Sheriff stepped in. "We'll find her, don't worry. She prob'ly jus' snuck off to a concert in another town or somethin'. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go back to that cove you mentioned. Let us look it over first, all right?"

Reluctantly, Remy agreed and watched as the two men left his home. They obviously didn't know Marie too well if they thought she was the type to go gallivanting in another town late at night.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

----

* I wanted to point out that the first scene with Marie was indeed a flashback, but it _wasn't_ the night before the sheriff's visit. It was just one of those many afternoons after school when she and Remy would hang out together in their cove.  
Just so we're all clear on that. : )


	5. Walking Alone

**Disclaimer: **The little disclaimer is fast asleep, in its bed, dreaming up ways of torturing us fanfic writers with its insidious ways. Me? I'm sitting here typing out author's notes late at night -- a.k.a. early, _early_ morning -- for the umpteenth time. Can you see which one of us has the better life?

**A/N: **I'm sorry to say that I don't think I'll be able to write anything for the next couple of weeks for two reasons. 1) There's a possibility I'll be helping out with the renovations to my grandmother's house in the coming week; and 2) I promised a friend I'd edit a whole stack of write-ups for her. Now the former can't be helped -- family stuff, you know -- but the latter I hold all of _you_ directly responsible! I mean, I've been through the sheer anguish of editing those write-ups before and had absolutely no intention whatsoever of doing it again! But she caught me. My friend caught me right on the day that I was on a high from all your reviews! I should have been stronger! I should have resisted! But no, I caved like a rock. Stupid review-induced sugar high...

~ Nina, heartstar, Lucky439, That Swedish guy, Christy S, T. -- -struggles to stuff Black Forest cake into email- Dammit! You'd think Bill Gates in all his Microsoft genius-ness (I'm copywriting that word!) would figure out a way to send sweet treats through cyberspace! How else does he expect me to say thank you to you guys?

~ Rupeshwari -- I did that on purpose, you know. I _knew_ it was your birthday and I made sure to post on that exact same day. What can I say? I'm a gifted little fruitcake... ; )

~ Cris-X -- First off, thanks for reviewing all four chapters in separate reviews. Lord knows I'm all for pushing the review count higher. ; ) And thank you for pointing out that French mistake, too. I really appreciate it when you guys do that, seeing as I tend to miss a lot of those little buggers.

~ vagabond, LinkinPark4ever, Mag Carter, Sakura Scout -- Thank you _so_ much! I consider it the highest of honors to be placed on someone's favorites list! Well, that and discovering that people are _actually_ reading this fic... ; ) Thanks for letting me know! -attempts to smash Black Forest cake into email with renewed vigor- Damn you, Gates!

~ TrinityC, Bitchy Little Pixy, Eileen Blazer, Disturbed Courtney -- Oh my God, don't even let me get started on _LotR!_ You'll never shut me up! Cinematic genius is what it is! I mean everything about it just comes together in a perfect blend. The story, the editing, the cinematography, the sets, the costumes, the acting, the special effects, the fight sequences, the production design, the direction! And the attention to detail! Down to the last iota! Peter Jackson really outdid himself, I must say. I am _definitely_ grateful he is so passionate about the books! I'll admit that I have a few nitpicks about the films, but they're kind of insignificant when you look at the movie as a whole. And I couldn't agree with you more, Courtney; I love Smeagol! He creeped me out in _The Fellowship..._ but by the end of _The Two Towers_ I was wishing Sam would stop picking on him!

~ ishandahalf -- Okay, too much stuff, I need to number it all. 1) -gasp!- Tootsie roll pop! Gimme! Gimme! 2) If you were trying to beat your last review in terms of length, I think you pretty much accomplished that! I'm upgrading the machete to a chainsaw! ; ) 3) Are we adding question marks to the exclamation points and periods now? 4) OMG! I can't believe you remembered that angels line from _After Midnight!_ Even _I_ didn't remember that! I use that analogy too often... 5) I was wondering when someone would notice the irony of Rogue being a singer there and then dreaming of becoming an actress here. In accordance with that theme, in the next story I'll make her a standup comedian or a primetime TV host! ; ) 6) Hmm... the insane have a natural immunity to other insane people... Interesting theory. You might be on to something. It could explain why there are so many of us here! : )

~ Marvel -- Funny thing, I was actually wondering about you a couple of days ago. For some reason I remembered how you said you were moving and it suddenly popped into my head, "I wonder how Marvel's doing." Kinda weird, huh? (But then again, we're talking about me here so maybe it's not so weird after all... ; )

~ missy42 -- Norbert? You got directions from _Norbert?!_ What did I tell you about listening to that noodle head? And what are you talking about? I _do not_ leave you all hanging! I gave everyone the proper cliffhanging equipment to ensure a safe and speedy -- -interrupted by persistent shoulder tapping by muse who points to storage room where equipment sits in nice, shiny new bags- Oh. Uhh... oops?

**CHAPTER 5  
Walking Alone**

It was the not knowing that was killing him the most. After the Sheriff and Deputy left, Remy attempted to go about his normal day. That endeavor lasted all of five seconds before he shot out the front door and down the streets of Hazard to search for Marie. He was honest enough with himself to realize that the places he thought to check were probably places that the Sheriff had already gone over. But he simply could not sit idly by, hoping she'd walk through the door. Not when something could have happened to her. Not when something in his soul was screaming for him to find her.

- oOo -

"Strawberry."

"Vanilla."

"Strawberry."

"Vanilla."

"Straw-- "

"Will I be needin' a scorecard for this li'l argument?" Margaret asked as she approached the counter where Remy and Marie were seated. "Or maybe you two would like me to build a stage outside the diner so I can charge admission." She set two milkshakes down in front of them. "What's the topic of debate this time? Or do I really wanna ask?"

"Maggie," Remy began, "will you please tell dis misinformed river rat dat _strawberry_ is a better flavor ice cream dan vanilla."

"It is not, bayou brains," Marie returned with mock annoyance, sticking her tongue out at him.

He ignored her and continued. "Vanilla's too plain, too common. Strawberry's got some flavor t' it an' it's -- "

"You jus' like it 'cause it's pink," his best friend interjected. "Frankly, Ah'm startin' ta wonder 'bout you, Cajun. Maybe there's somethin' you should be tellin' all yoah girlfrien-- "

"Okay, cease fire." Margaret held up her hands. "All right, so this is debate number... Lord only knows what number we're up to now. Lemme get this straight: Remy, you prefer strawberry; an' Marie, you like vanilla?" She waited for their confirming nods. "Then why did the two of you order chocolate?"

Both teens looked down toward their drinks, and then at each other before facing Margaret once again.

"Well, dis is a milkshake, Maggie," Remy explained patiently. "Ev'rybody knows dat chocolate makes de best milkshake."

Marie nodded her agreement.

With a sigh, Margaret waved them away. "Get out of here, you li'l devils. The two of you are headaches waitin' to happen. Leave an old woman alone. And in peace," she added.

Remy grinned, picking up his order and leaning across the counter to kiss Margaret on the cheek. "You ain't old, Maggie. Ya even younger dan de day I meet you."

"Charmer," he heard her respond on his way towards the exit.

"So, _chère,"_ he called over his shoulder, slipping through the glass door, "break's over. You ready t'head back home an' take on _Maman's_ bakin' frenzy again?"

Silence met his inquiry. He turned to discover that she hadn't made it out the door yet. She was still in the diner, standing near a booth, chatting with several members of their high school football team.

Something about the scene bothered him. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he knew it was there. Like a gut instinct that was clamoring to be heard. There was nothing out of the ordinary, per se. Marie was a very friendly person; she stopped to say hello to nearly everyone she recognized. But an undeniable itch had manifested in his hands, and he wanted nothing more than to march back inside and pull her away from the slick glances the jocks were giving her.

"Sugah?"

He jerked out of his thoughts. Marie had joined him outside.

"Sorry 'bout that," she said, linking her arm in his and leading him down the sidewalk. "Jus' sayin' hi ta some guys from school. You okay?" she asked when he remained quiet.

"_Oui." _It wasn't "just saying hi." He could read it in their body language. In _her_ body language. In the way she slightly thrust her hip towards their table. The way one of the guys leaned in closer, brushing against her arm. There had been flirting. There had been attraction. And it annoyed the hell out of him.

_Why'm I gettin' all riled up?_ he demanded of himself. _I've seen Marie wit' boyfriends before. Never had any real problems wit' dem, 'cept f'r de fact dat dey were all idiots._ He frowned. _So what's changed? Why do I feel almost..._

"Ah swear, yoah spacin' out on me more an' more these days."

Remy blinked. "_Quoi?"_ He realized that she was standing on the threshold of his house, the door held open by her outstretched hand.

"Ah'd invite you in," she quipped, "but seein' as you live here an' all, that might be a li'l unnecessary."

Muttering under his breath about her poor comedic skill, he followed her through the front door. A few years after moving to Hazard, his mother had been able to save enough money to buy a house on the edge of town. It was by no means a lavish house -- only two small bedrooms -- but it was entirely theirs. Bought and paid for through hard work and sacrifice.

"_Maman?"_ he called out. "We're back!"

"Still in de kitchen, _petit."_

As they entered the room, they were greeted by the sight of every conceivable baking apparatus known to man, spread along all available flat surfaces.

"How's dat invasion o' Germany goin'?" Remy joked as he settled down into a chair, making a space on the table for his milkshake.

Susanne smiled, running her flour-covered finger down her son's nose as she passed him. "Did you give Margaret de pie?"

"She loved it," Marie reported. She opened the tap at the sink and began washing the dishes that Susanne had piled there. "She made sure ta tell th' waitresses not ta accidentally serve it ta th' customers."

Remy smirked. "Shoulda never told you dat you made a great apple pie, _Maman._ It's all gone t'ya head."

"An' you're an expert on havin' a big head, _n'est-ce pas, mon fils?"_

From over the rush of water, they heard a snicker.

"So, Marie," Susanne continued, "how are t'ings wit' Michael?"

Both teenagers winced at the name.

Noticing their reactions, Susanne questioned, "What?"

Remy stood and began putting away ingredients. "He was cheatin' on her. Dey broke up 'bout a week an' a half ago."

"Oh, _petite,_ I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," Marie rinsed off a bowl and placed it on the nearby rack to dry, "but Ah'm not too torn up about it. We were kinda driftin' ovah th' months anyway."

"Well, dere are plenty o' other young men out dere f'r you," consoled Susanne.

Across the room Remy scoffed. "Yeah, an' she already started flirtin' wit' some o' 'em t'day."

"Ah did not!"

"Did too. Back in de diner, wit' de jocks."

"Ah was jus' bein' polite. Josh is in mah English class."

"Is dat why you were practic'lly sittin' on de table?"

"Oh, yoah one ta talk, mistah! What were you an' Lisa doin' on th' bench in de girls' locker room last month, hmm?"

"Remy LeBeau!"

He shot Marie a malevolent glare before turning to placate his mother. "Wasn't not'in' serious, _Maman._ I didn' even start it. Lisa dragged me in dere an' started kissin' me."

"An' I suppose you were too much o' a gentleman t'refuse?" his mother asked dryly. She sighed and her voice lost most of its scolding tone. "You are more like Jean-Luc dan I t'ought would have been possible, _petit."_ She kissed his forehead. "But please don' make me a _grand-mère_ anytime soon. You're much too young."

"I promise, _Maman."_

"You better," she chided him softly, picking up a wrapped apple pie. "I'm gon' give dis t' Mrs. Watkins down de street. You two t'ink you can avoid bloodshed f'r dat long?"

Remy grinned as he swiped a dishtowel off its perch. "_Maman,_ de house will still be standin' an' we'll still be breathin' when you get back."

Susanne gave her son a dubious look. "Marie, one o' de pies is f'r you an' ya poppa. Don' let Remy eat dem all."

"Okay, thanks."

When his mother was out the door, Remy turned to his friend. Twirling the towel up tight, he cracked it smartly against her hip.

"Ow!" she cried out, barely catching the measuring cup in her soapy hands. She placed her cupped palm underneath the running faucet, letting the water pool there before flinging the liquid at Remy. "If you want a war, sugah, you can at least fight fair!"

"Fair? Is dat ya idea o' fair? Tellin' _Maman_ 'bout de t'ing wit' Lisa?"

"You were th' one sayin' Ah was throwin' mahself at th' boys in th' diner!"

"Well, you were!"

"Ah was not!"

"Were too!"

"Will you at least wait until Ah finish with th' dishes so Ah can come ovah there an' whack you upside th' head proper like?"

"Ya destroyin' m'mother's picture-perfect image o' her li'l boy."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh Lord, give me th' strength ta not gag at that comment. Yoah momma knows you ain't a baby saint, swamp rat."

With a mock gasp, he ordered, "Bite ya tongue, _chèrie!"_ He dipped his hand into the flour container and began sprinkling the powder over her head.

She cried out in indignation, twisting to the side and trying to push him away. However, her foot slipped on a small puddle and she went crashing to the floor, pulling him down with her. They landed hard, with most of his weight slamming into her body.

Somewhat disoriented by the sudden fall, Remy raised himself onto his forearms, peering down at Marie. Her normally auburn hair was now tainted with even more streaks of white thanks to his earlier flour dusting. Her eyes were shut and her brows were slightly knitted, as if in pain. Although it was rather inappropriate for the moment, he couldn't help but think how smooth and porcelain-like her skin appeared to be. He wondered if it was as silky as it seemed.

Her groan of discomfort brought him back to reality. He rolled aside and stood, offering her his hand. "You okay, river rat?" He purposefully avoided his familiar French endearments for her, trying to remind himself that she was his best friend and that the way he was currently gawking at her was anything but friendly.

"No." As he helped her to her feet, she mewled, "Ah can jus' imagine th' big ol' bruise that's gonna be th' result o' that." She delicately touched her hip and winched. "Ah can feel it already."

"Ya overreactin'."

"Oh really? How'd you like it if Ah fell on top o' you like that?"

_Wouldn't really mind, actu'lly. All dose nice, soft curves..._ Remy mentally slapped himself. His damn thoughts were wandering again. And back into forbidden territory, no less.

"Can we finish cleanin' up before one o' us ends up in th' hospital with serious injuries?" she asked, returning to the sink.

He nodded. "_Oui."_ The thoughts were merely some asinine phase involving hormones, he told himself. Given a little time, they were sure to go away.

- oOo -

Three months later, they were still haunting him. And if he didn't know any better, he would have sworn they were getting worse. Now he was noticing the way that she walked. The way that she threw her head back when she laughed. The way that she chewed at her bottom lip when trying to figure out a difficult math problem. Those cute little Marie mannerisms were driving him crazy, but at the same time, they were most adorable thing he had ever seen.

He couldn't make sense of any of it. Why was he suddenly looking at her as if she were a girl? Not a friend. Not a buddy. Not as someone whose knowledge of motorcycles rivaled his own. But as a flesh and blood young woman who drew his gaze to her with even the slightest of motions.

The enigma was making his head hurt. And the pain only got worse when he caught sight of her down the hall, making her way over to his locker.

"So guess what," she said, by way of greeting.

"Ya string o' datin' disasters has finally come t' an end an' I don' have t'put up wit' any more o' ya loser boyfriends?"

A sour smile appeared. "Funny, but no. Josh asked me ta th' dance!"

Inwardly, he scowled. Josh. The boy she'd started flirting with in the diner all those months ago. Remy was sure the quarterback would have made a move sooner, if Marie hadn't been dating her other classmate, Brian Dale. Not that Remy had anything against Brian, but for the entire month that he and Marie were dating, Remy had wanted to twist the other boy's head clean off.

_A natural reaction f'r a best friend,_ his conscience whispered assuredly. What was not natural was how he watched her lips move as she spoke. How he wanted nothing more than to see what they tasted like.

"So Ah wanna set you up with someone."

And just like that, the thoughts were pushed to the farthest corner of his mind. "Ya kiddin' me, right?" He had finished collecting the necessary items from his locker and they began walking down the corridor.

"Nope. Ah'm as serious as all get out." She smiled. "Someone's had a crush on you fo' a while now an' she's been askin' me ta -- "

"You c'n stop right dere. It ain't gon' happen."

"Why not?" Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and confusion. She honestly didn't know. Not that he ever wanted to tell her.

_Why not?_ he thought almost bitterly. '_Cause maybe I'm tired o' bein' de resident bad boy dat all de good girls wan' test deir rebellious natures wit'. Maybe I'm tired o' sittin' so close t' a girl but never bein' close wit' her. Not like I am wit' you._

"It jus' ain't," he answered instead, halting in front of her classroom. The look on her face hadn't changed and he felt a twinge of guilt for his harsh, unexplained words. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he favored her with an impish grin. "I don' hold much stock in ya matchmakin' abilities, _petite."_

She relaxed visibly . "Ah'll have you know that Ah'm a first-rate matchmaker. Ah got Todd an' Beth t'gether, didn' Ah?"

"Dey broke up after two months."

"But Ah bet it was th' best two months o' their lives!"

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Get in dere before ya teacher yanks you in by de collar."

"Cove aftah school?"

"An' you wonder why we haven't finished de Harley yet," he stated wryly. "We spend more time at de cove dan we do at de garage. It's a wonder Jim hasn't fired me yet."

She looked at him questioningly, her eyes soft and wide.

"Cove," he confirmed with a sigh, before continuing down the hall. "But I at least want t'finish dat bike before I graduate," he called back to her.

- oOo -

"You can not!"

"Can too."

"Not."

"Too."

"Ah don' believe you."

His only response was a sly grin.

The two teens were perched on top of the fallen tree. Marie sat facing him, her knees drawn and bare soles nestled against the rough surface of the bark. Remy, on the other hand, was turned away from her, gazing out at the quiet river next to them.

"Yoah makin' this stuff up," she accused.

He snorted, then twisted his body towards her. "Don' know why you don' t'ink it's true. You know who m'poppa was."

"Prove it."

An eyebrow quirked in her direction. "An' here I was t'inkin' you had some faith in me, _petite."_

"Ah do have faith in you, swamp rat," she replied, "Ah jus' wanna see a demonstration o' these so-called pickpocketin' skills o' yoahs."

He sighed heavily, casting his gaze to the ground. Marie could feel his abrupt change in mood as if it were a tangible thing in front of her.

"I'd rather not, _chère._ Dey jus' bring back bad mem'ries. T'ings I try not t' t'ink about. 'Sides, I'd much rather..."

"Much rather what?" she asked when he didn't complete his sentence. She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch his eyes. When he finally did look up, the intensity she found there startled her.

"I'd much rather be doin' somet'in' else," he whispered, resting one hand on her exposed ankle. He languidly traced the outline of the delicate silver chain bound around her foot.

Marie tried to swallow around the sudden lump that had mysteriously formed in her throat. Remy's eyes were following the slow movements of his fingers, and for that she was glad. She didn't think she could have taken another helping of that potent stare.

The way his touch was singing over her skin was confusing to say the least. He was her best friend. Her confidant. She'd known him for years and had never even felt an inkling of a spark towards him. She didn't deny the fact that Remy was attractive -- she knew that he was -- but she never thought _she'd_ be attracted to him. The odd burning sensation rippling across her flesh, however, was telling her otherwise.

She forced herself to concentrate. "W-what would you rather be doin'?"

As if in slow motion, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her. She couldn't be sure, but it looked as if the edges of his irises were crackling red with energy. She held her breath as he leaned forward, obliterating the gap that separated them, one hand still resting on her ankle. He stopped barely a hair's breadth from her. He took a moment to study her, taking in the somewhat fearful and yet mildly curious expression on her face. "Somet'in' like dis," he breathed just before brushing his lips over hers.

The initial shock that ran through her body was frightening. Not because she was afraid he would hurt her, but because it was so powerful, so all-consuming. She soon found herself lowering her knees, leaving her to straddle the tree trunk and angling even closer towards him.

He responded by deepening his kiss, bringing his hands up to caress her neck. With practiced ease, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, teasingly touching her own. A grin of satisfaction almost appeared on his face as he heard her moan in pleasure. One set of fingers slowly slipped down to her collarbone, followed by the other, testing the warmth of her bared neckline.

With one final taste of her lips, he broke their kiss, pulling away from her languorously, almost regretfully. Sometime during their intimate moment her eyes had closed. The look she had seemed blissful, sated, with just a hint of hunger. He wondered if he wore a similar expression.

Marie almost didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to break whatever delicious spell had descended upon them. The kiss had been... it had been... beautiful. She didn't think another word could do it justice. It was intense and passionate. And yet sweet and... loving.

_Lovin'?_ She was surprised at her own choice of words. _This is Remy we're talkin' 'bout here! Remy! Me an' him, we don' work t'gether. Friends, yes. Lovers, no. We're not boyfriend-girlfriend material._ But her thoughts betrayed her yet again, sowing little seeds of doubt in her mind. _Are we?_

She finally opened her eyes, only to find Remy watching her intently. The inevitable awkward moment fell between them and Marie desperately groped for something to say.

"That was... that was..."

"Incredible," he provided, setting her at ease with one of his familiar grins. "Amazin'. Mind-blowin'. Take ya pick o' adjectives, _chèrie."_ He moved in closer, as if to repeat the gesture.

She licked her lips in anticipation. Just thinking about his kiss made her ache all over. She leaned closer towards him, meeting him halfway, as if being magnetically drawn to his person.

"Marie..." His voice was breathy. And though he had said her name a million times before, the way it rolled off his tongue at that moment sent undeniable shivers crawling down her spine. "I want t'do dat again."

The movements of his lips mesmerized her. Even if her life had depended on it, she probably wouldn't have been able to tear her gaze away from them. "Yes." She gave her permission in a tone that was husky with desire, yearning for the exact same thing he was asking for.

His hand gently brushed a few ivory tendrils away from her face. "But before I do dat," his lips whispered against hers in the briefest of touches, "I have t'know..."

She nodded slightly, encouraging him to finish. She would have told him to stop talking altogether and just kiss her, but his deep, rich voice was strengthening the spell.

His mouth fluttered along her jaw, leaving butterfly kisses in its wake. His breath was warm and intoxicating against her ear. "Did you feel it?"

The question barely registered with her. In lieu of a reply, another involuntary moan escaped her lips as his mouth came down on hers once more.

This time when they pulled apart several breathless moments later, Marie kept her eyes locked onto Remy's. She had been right; his irises did seem to be burning around the edges. She was further fascinated by this new revelation and felt the familiar pull towards him.

It was then that she heard the slight clinking of metal against metal. The sound was so faint that had she been further away, she would have missed it entirely. She dropped her gaze to where Remy was playing with something in his hands, pouring it from one to the other and then back again. It took her a minute to recognize her silver necklace. Gasping in shock, her hands flew to her neck to confirm the chain's absence.

"How did you...?"

"Guess dat means you didn' feel it, eh, _chère?"_ he asked rather smugly, enjoying the flustered look on her face.

His words eventually pushed through her still hazy mind, realization slowly dawning on her. _This was his way o' demonstratin' his pickpocketin' skills. It wasn't 'cause he felt --_

She stopped herself before she could complete the thought. Best to let it lie. It would only complicate things further if she overanalyzed whatever had happened.

"All right, Cajun, you proved yoah point." She reached for her necklace. "Fork it ovah." But before her fingers could grasp it, he securely closed his fist around the chain.

"Not so fast, _petite._ What kind o' a t'ief would I be if I jus' gave away whatever I lifted?"

"That's not funny, Remy. Can Ah have it back now, please?"

He slid off the tree trunk and began strolling down the riverbank. "No, I t'ink I'll keep it. It's kinda pretty."

Stalking over to him, she demanded sternly, "Give it back."

"_Non."_

"Remy, Ah'm warnin' you..."

To irk her even more, he crossed his arms over his chest, securing the silver chain within their folds. He was only teasing her really. He had no intention of keeping the necklace, and would sooner or later return it to her. But only after having a little fun first.

"What's so special 'bout dis li'l trinket?" he asked, struggling to keep the grin from his face as she attempted to pry his arms from their locked position. "One o' ya Romeos give dis t'you? Who was it? Michael? Brian? Dat jock from de diner?"

Frustrated and on the verge of tears from her fruitless efforts against him, she spat out, "No, you jerk, it was mah momma's." And with that declaration, she turned on her heel and stomped away in anger.

With those words, Remy's entire body deflated, as if he suddenly lost every ounce of his energy. His arms fell limply to his sides and the fist surrounding the necklace loosened. He knew how much Marie cherished anything that had to do with her mother.

"_Merde,"_ he mumbled, as he followed her back to their cove. When he got there, she was furiously shoving books into her bag. "_Chère,_ I'm sorry. You know I didn' mean anyt'in' by it. I was jus' teasin'."

Marie sighed. She knew she was overacting. Remy did this sort of thing all the time and it had never bothered her before. In fact, she'd more often than not go along with his antics, giving as good as she got. Perhaps it was simply a combination of things. Her senses were still reeling from their kiss, and she was utterly confused by its implications -- or lack thereof. Add to that the fact that she was fiercely protective of her mother's memory and the precious few things she had to remember her by.

Her body had relaxed, Remy noticed, and she'd ceased her infuriated movements. Her back was still to him but at least she seemed calmer, ready to hear his apology if not accept it. He stepped closer to her. Holding the necklace at both ends, he brought it over her head and back around her neck, before brushing her hair aside to secure the clasp. His fingers lingered a moment at her nape and then dropped back down to his sides.

"I wouldn't do anyt'in' t'hurt you, Marie," he whispered. "You know dat."

She nodded and leaned back into his arms, feeling them wrap around her securely. "Ah know."

She also knew that his nearness was confusing her, more than it ever had before.

- oOo -

The search had been futile. He'd walked over every square foot in town, with nothing to show for it but a weary spirit and a creased brow. It was nearly twenty-four hours since he'd last seen her, last spoken to her. The fear that she was in some sort of trouble was increasing with each tick of the clock.

No one had seen her since the previous day. Absorption powers were one thing, but to disappear completely? Even that was beyond Marie's abilities. She wasn't in the diner, in the garage or hanging around the high school. Neither had she slept over at a friend's house or made plans to go out of town. The only place he hadn't searched was their cove. But the Sheriff had specifically told him to stay away, at least until they had looked over the premises first.

A knock sounded at the front door. It was too much to hope that it was Marie. Remy knew she wouldn't have bothered with knocking. She would have marched right in and hollered out his name as if she lived there herself, which was true half of the time.

He dragged himself off the couch and across the room to the door. Swinging it open, he blinked as the afternoon sun tumbled in. He was surprised to see the Sheriff and his deputy standing before him once more.

"Remy," Sheriff Miller began, his eyes filled with regret, "I... I don't know how to say this..."

The entire world collapsed. Or so it seemed to Remy. His vision darkened. His throat parched. And for the life of him, he couldn't seem to draw a steady breath.

_Dey found her,_ he thought. _Dey found her an' now dey came t'tell me dat she's... she's..._

He couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't _want_ to finish the sentence. The pain was overwhelming, like an iron fist around his heart, and much, much worse than he ever thought possible.

When his superior didn't seem inclined to continue, Deputy Stephens stepped in. "Remy LeBeau," he stated in a grave, solemn tone, "you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say..."

----

Ahh, and the drama continues...  
Let me know your email add if you want to be put on the Hit List -- I mean, Update List... ; )


	6. No One Understood

**Disclaimer: **Is it normal for a disclaimer to be baring its teeth and wielding a sword in one hand and a 'Die Author, Die' banner in the other?

**A/N: **Yes! I _finally_ finished editing those damn write-ups. After _SO_ very long. Man, I was about ready to jam my own pencil into my eye rather than read one more of those evil, evil creations! I even went on a week-long road trip with a couple of my friends and I had to bring those stupid things with me! If I ever see another write-up again, I swear it will be too soon...

So anyway, shoutouts time! You might wanna borrow a chainsaw from ishandahalf. This may take a while... ; )

~ vagabond, Lucky439, T., LinkinPark4ever, Nina, TrinityC, V, Sakura Scout, Sujakata, Jean1, girlonthem00n, Rupeshwari, , The Green Goddess, Kanshisha Tenshi, Alwaysright, Bunny Angel, Wishful Thinking, lovelyaceinthehole -- (Man, try saying all that in one breath! : ) Thanks for the words of encouragement! And as always, all death threats and wishes of pain and injury to my person will be transferred to my muse. (He upgraded his suit of armor recently, so he should be good for the next couple of chapters...)

~ An Underpaid Critic -- I love your screen name! If I could get away with it, I'd probably steal it right out from under you! : ) I know what you mean about the flashbacks and Remy's POV; I had the same concerns back when I was planning Chapter 1. The thing is, I _needed_ Susanne to explain why they had to leave New Orleans -- Remy was only 7 at the time and wouldn't really know the specific details of it all -- and I wanted to show Marie's side of the story as well. And in order to do that, I needed their perspectives to shine through -- even though it's Remy who's doing the reminiscing. Hey, if they can do it in movies then I can do it in fanfiction! ; )

~ Disturbed Courtney -- *looks on innocently* You say I'm evil like it's a bad thing... ; ) Forgot to hit the blue button before you left, huh? _That_ got me laughing! : )

~ ishandahalf -- 1) _I know!_ Bill Gates should've figured out how to send stuff through emails by now! I mean, they can do it on _Star Trek..._ : ) 2) Actually, the machete broke in half. Nearly took my head off with it, too. 3) Hmm... _Lord of the Flies..._ If you ask me that whole movie was disturbing. We had to analyze it for one of our college classes. I'm sorry, but I hate that movie. It freaks the hell out of me, especially that part when they accidentally kill one of their own... *shudder* 4) I'm a Cookies 'N Cream kind of girl myself, but anything having to do with cookies and ice cream works for me! 5) So I didn't make your March 7 deadline but you're off in Europe anyway so you can't kill me... oh, you're back...? *gulp!*... Did you find a Remy lookalike over there? You did, didn't you? You did and now you don't want to share! *starts rummaging through suitcases* C'mon! Where did you stash him?!

~ Randirogue -- I'll have to try that thing with the update list you were talking about. That is, if I ever work on more than one story at a time. I try and complete one before developing another because I'm afraid I might abandon a fic right in the middle. I can't give in to those fluffy plot bunnies... and all those nice, fresh ideas they keep pelting me with. *bunny dangles idea teasingly in front of face* No, dammit! I have to be strong! : )

~ Christy S -- I thought we were all "positively bonkers" already? ; )

~ Bitchy Little Pixy -- Ooh! The history of _The Lord of the Rings_ book set. Wow... Learn anything interesting? : )

~ Eileen Blazer -- You actually _did_ review this chapter before. But far be it from me to complain about getting an extra review! ; ) *curtsies formally* I thank you for both, madam... : )

~ missy42, jelispar -- Lots of questions in your last reviews... Guess how many of them I can answer... ; ) Hey, you would keep your mouth shut too if you had the bunnies breathing down _your_ neck! On other notes... missy... reliable directions? From a dragon? I don't see how that can work... (Btw, just to let you know, Draco _did_ hear that. I hope you've brushed up on your dragon-slaying techniques... ; ) And jelispar... rallying the troops to strike against me? I'm shocked... speechless! I don't know what to say! ... Can I join too? ; )

~ Flitz -- Hmm... Raven... interesting... *quick conference with plot bunnies. Scratching and hissing ensues. Returns with a bandaged arm* Yeah, that would be a 'No comment' on that front... : )

~ Marvel -- "Disney is the devil." *gasp!* No! Say it ain't so! I'm a Mouse-House baby! Loyal to the last Mickey ear! I have plans of _living_ in the Happiest Place on Earth! ... It was the duck, wasn't it? Donald's got a temper that would make Ursula the sea-witch blush! Seriously, I don't know what Daisy sees in him... : ) Well, the plot of the story is already planned out so even if you did ask me to do something different it'd be hard to squeeze it in. The bunnies have been controlling the show thus far and I don't think they have plans of relinquishing that control any time soon... ; )

~ SLH -- Wow, someone else who's brave enough to tread through all this A/N nonsense! You are a brave soul, my friend. : )

~ Cris-X -- LOL! Your review had me laughing! I'd do the same thing if there was some ice cream in front of me! : )

~ Kia Purity -- Ooh! More Chibi Gambit plushies! *sets collection all in a line and starts counting* Now I have the one in his cool original costume... the one in his Xtreme costume... the one in the lame 'Assassination Game' costume with the weird red bandana around his neck... But hey, it's still Remy and we love him -- even though that was the most hideous costume I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on... ; )

~ Marie -- Go ahead! Leave your job! Hunt me down! I dare ya! ... uhh, you're not actually going to do that, are you? ; )

*wipes brow* Phew! Would you look at that... we actually survived!

**CHAPTER 6  
No One Understood**

It wasn't the first time he'd seen the inside of the police station.

Remy LeBeau had been in and out of the one-story building more times than he could count. It was like a second principle's office for him. But he had never been _inside_ one of the jail cells before. He was beginning to wonder if anybody really had. Hazard wasn't exactly the crime capital of Nebraska. That much was evident by the size of the town's jailhouse. The entire floor area was only slightly bigger than Remy's home. The two holding cells were located in the farthest corner from the door, directly across from the Deputy's desk. The Sheriff's office was at the opposite end, the only section of the room that provided any privacy.

The cot he was perched on was uncomfortable. Not that he took much notice of it. In fact, everything else in the building seemed to fade away into silence. The footsteps of the Deputy moving about the area, the scratchy sound of the old radio in the corner, the persistent drip of a leaky faucet, the inebriated mumblings of the town drunk -- all were lost to him. His eyes were glued to the clear plastic bag sitting on the desk a few feet away… and the contents within.

A single silver chain.

Marie's necklace.

They'd found it by the river, some ways from their cove, caked with dirt, as if someone had unknowingly ground it into the mud with the bottom of a shoe.

They'd found the necklace, but they hadn't found her. They hadn't found Marie.

From what he could understand, they had no idea where she was or what had happened to her. But for some reason, they thought _he_ did.

He'd remained silent on the way to the station. Though he'd never been arrested before, he wasn't stupid enough to go shooting off his mouth and perhaps getting himself into even deeper trouble than he was already in.

When they'd stepped down from the Sheriff's vehicle, life on Main Street seemed to have stopped. All eyes were focused on Remy's form being lead into the jailhouse, escorted by the two law enforcers... silver handcuffs clinging to his wrists.

The townsfolk didn't even think twice. His guilt was decided before he even set foot in the building.

- oOo -

"For God's sake, Marie, you're not even paying attention to the game."

Marie jumped as a hand waved in front of her face. She shooed it away irritably. "What're you talkin' about, Lauren, Ah'm watchin'."

"Then how come you've stayed glued to that spot while they rest of us have been screaming our heads off whenever the school team makes a touchdown?"

"Well, somebody's gotta stay sane in all this craziness," Marie replied as the crowd around them erupted into another round of roaring cheers. The chaotic vibrations from all the foot stomping and hand clapping were jarring through her system. It felt like her backside was perched on a bass-shaking speaker rather than the bleachers of a neighboring town's football field.

"What's up with you anyway?" Lauren asked as the people around them settled back into their seats. She leaned in closer and whispered, "It's Remy, isn't it?"

"It's not Remy."

"Yes it is."

Marie glared at her friend. "Yoah way off base, Lauren."

"Am I now? Well then, where is he? How come he's not here?"

Marie shrugged. "He's not much o' a football fan."

"I know that. The whole school knows that. But he shows up anyway, to every game, because _you_ like them."

"That's not th' reason why he comes."

Lauren raised a questioning eyebrow but let the comment go. "You two still fighting?"

"We are not fightin'," Marie answered defensively.

"Well, what would _you_ call it then?" Lauren took a sip of the cold drink in her hand. "Something's definitely up with you guys; everybody's noticed it. You used to be joined at the hip. But for some reason you're all awkward around him now, almost as if you'd like to run in the other direction whenever he's around. What happened?"

"You really got th' whole psychological analysis thing down pat, don'tcha, L? Maybe you should think about majorin' in that, come college time."

"You're sidestepping the issue."

"An' yoah creatin' one that ain't there."

"Argh! That does it!" Lauren hissed. She took hold of Marie's hand and yanked the other girl to her feet. "Let's go." Excusing themselves through the crowd, they made their way down the bleachers and towards the parking lot.

"Where are we goin'?" asked Marie when they had climbed into Lauren's jeep. "Th' game's not ovah yet."

"We're heading home. Clearly you aren't paying attention to the game, and frankly, watching Josh strut around showing off for you isn't as much fun if you don't even notice him doing it."

"He wasn't showin' off fo' me."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Honey, he nearly pulled a hamstring in that last quarter. I could see Coach Riley tearing into his hide on the sidelines for sashaying around like a peacock."

Marie tried unsuccessfully to suppress her laughter. The thought in itself was flattering, but the image of the popular quarterback embarrassing himself in public was simply too funny to ignore. "Really?"

Her friend nodded. "You should let him down already, tell him that someone else has taken over your heart."

Marie stared at her in surprise. "What are you talkin' about? Brian an' Ah have been ovah fo' months now -- "

"Not Brian, you loon." Lauren stole a glance at the other girl from the corner of her eye. "Remy."

"What?! Are you crazy? He's mah best friend!"

"Who you happen to like."

"Ah do not!"

"Then why wouldn't you set him up with Pamela like she asked you to?"

"Ah tried! He said he didn' trust mah matchmakin' abilities."

"More like he's in love with you."

"Yoah talkin' out o' yoah ass again, Lauren," Marie said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ah don' even know where yoah gettin' all this."

"Hey, watch the mouth, preacher's kid." She maneuvered the jeep through a right turn. "And I have two eyes, you know. I _see_ things."

"Or yoah jus' imaginin' things. Remy an' Ah are friends. That's it."

"Man, you're stubborn. When you're in denial, you really take it to the next level, don't you?"

"Ah don' wanna talk about this anymore," Marie stated, staring at the scenery passing by her window.

"Fine by me. You can sit there and listen while _I_ talk."

"Lauren -- "

"Hush!" she scolded, sitting up straighter in the driver's seat. "You're going to hear this, unless you want to jump out of a moving vehicle. I was kind of hoping you'd get it on your own, but apparently you need things spelled out for you. Remy. Is. In. Love. With. You."

"You were dropped on yoah head as a child, weren't you?"

"You know, I have half a mind to commit suicide right now by driving us over a cliff," Lauren growled in frustration. "Unfortunately for me, there aren't any cliffs handy at the moment." She shot another glance in her friend's direction. "Girl, why're you trying so hard to convince me that you don't like Remy in _that_ way? And why don't you want to tell me what happened between you two?"

Marie's shoulders sank in defeat before she uttered softly, "How come yoah so sure somethin' happened with us?"

"Because I haven't been able to get rid of you for the past couple of weeks."

"Excuse me?"

A smile colored Lauren's features. "I don't mean that in a bad way; we have our moments. It's just that, when you and him were tight, I hardly got to see you. And when I did see you, Remy wasn't that far behind." She pulled onto the bridge that marked the entrance of their town. "And now all of a sudden we're hanging, _without_ the Cajun counterpart. It kind of makes a person wonder, you know?"

When she didn't respond, Lauren sighed heavily. "You really don't want to talk about it, do you? Fine. I'll drop it." She parked the jeep along Main Street. "You want to get some fries over at the diner?"

"No, not really," Marie replied as she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed down from the vehicle. "Can we jus' walk instead?"

Lauren agreed but was soon smirking as they strolled down the deserted streets. "You don't want to go to the diner because there's a possibility he's there."

Marie snorted. This was Lauren's idea of 'dropping' the topic? Five minutes hadn't even passed and she was back on the subject of Remy.

"You don' quit, do you?" she demanded. "Why do you care? You don' even like Remy all that much."

"I know. Nobody in this town does." She sensed her friend stiffening next to her. "I'm sorry, Marie, but it's not like you didn't know that already. Remy's kind of the black sheep of the town."

"More like th' scapegoat, with th' way folks accuse him o' things that aren't even his doin'."

"Well, you can't really blame everyone for being scared of him. Not with what he can do," Lauren added in a hurried whisper.

Marie wanted to roll her eyes. She couldn't believe that after all these years, people still spoke of Remy's mutant powers like they were some dirty little secret that shouldn't be discussed in 'civil' conversations. It was absolutely ridiculous.

"You know, Ah'm a mutant too."

Lauren waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, but that's different. You're Reverend Johnson's daughter."

And there it was. The sad truth of it all. Remy had been living in Hazard for more than half of his life, but he was still an outcast. Marie had moved into town only a few years before. But because she was a preacher's daughter, her mutancy wasn't an issue. The injustice of the situation brought tears to her eyes.

"Ah don' understand you, Lauren," she said, using her hand to shade herself from the afternoon sun. "Yoah scared stiff o' Remy, you freely admit you don' like him that much, an' yet yoah pushin' me ta confess that Ah have feelin's fo' him."

"So you're saying that you do have feelings for him?" Lauren asked slyly.

"Now who's sidesteppin' th' issue?"

"All right," she relented, stopping to sit on the bench outside the local barbershop. The streets were all but empty, with most of the town cheering on the high school team at the game. "I never said I was scared of him... well, not _scared, _scared. I think he's an okay guy, fun to hang with and everything. But I don't want to get too close to him. He still makes me nervous, knowing what he can do. Did you know that he made a couple of trees blow up when he was younger?" She snapped her fingers. "Just like that. One big pile of smoke and ash. It makes you wonder if he can do the same with people."

"Remy wouldn't do that."

Lauren shrugged. "Maybe." She crossed her legs and leaned back against the bench. "I don't know, Marie... you're kind of like a guarantee that he won't do anything funny." At the questioning expression on the other girl's face, she explained, "Before you showed up, Remy was pretty much a loner. The only interaction we had with him was in school. But other than that, there wasn't much. All the adults would tell us to keep our distance... just to be safe.

"But then you came along. Everybody was shocked that you'd befriended him, and right off the bat too. People figured that it was because you hadn't heard the stories yet. But even after you were told everything you still continued with your friendship. I think everyone relaxed a bit then, seeing as you were spending all this time with him and nothing bad was happening to you. So we started to warm up to him a bit -- but just a bit. Most kids our age won't approach him unless you're around."

Marie could only stare in disbelief. That was insane. Completely and utterly insane. It was one of the stupidest pieces of logic that she had ever heard. Did the folks in Hazard think that she was some kind of magical medallion that could somehow keep Remy in check?

"What about Susanne?" she asked Lauren. "Or Maggie or Jim? They've all been around Remy a lot longer than Ah have an' nothin' happens ta them."

"Well, Susanne's his mother. I think it's safe to say that he isn't going to do anything to his own mother. And Margaret has always been a little on the eccentric side. If she wants to deal with the devil, no one could convince her otherwise." She turned to Marie. "But if you look closely enough, you'll see that even Jim is wary of him. I'm pretty sure he was having doubts about hiring Remy at the garage."

Marie frowned. Though she didn't want to admit it, Lauren's words did have a ring of truth to them. There were times when a hint of caution seemed to creep into Jim's eyes, but she had always passed it off as her imagination. If Jim Travis had any reservations about being around Remy, he hid it well behind a polite and amiable demeanor.

"You still haven't answered mah question," she said. "Why are you so curious about mah relationship with Remy?"

"You're my friend, Marie," Lauren responded. "I'm forever curious about your relationships. Besides, you and Remy are best friends. Best friends always make the best lovers."

Marie heard the words but found them hard to believe. "That's not it," she declared, forcing Lauren to make eye contact with her. "At least, that's not _all_ o' it. There's somethin' you ain't tellin' me..."

Lauren wanted to squirm in her seat. She hated it when Marie turned on her with that icy green glare. It was as if all the heavens above were demanding the truth out of her, and they would immediately know if a lie passed over her lips.

"You... you don't know what you're saying. Can't I just think that you two would make a nice couple?"

"See that," Marie pointed listlessly at the girl beside her, "that jus' gave you away right there. That pause. Now Ah _know_ there's somethin' more."

"Marie -- "

"Ah want ta know, Lauren," she said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

Her friend sighed. "All right... but don't get mad. Promise?" She refused to go any further without Marie's confirming nod. Once she had it, after several reluctant moments, she continued. "Some people think it would be a good idea for you and Remy to get together because you're kind of... 'God-guarded.' Being a reverend's child, he can't hurt you. And you could keep him out of trouble."

"Out o' trouble?"

"You know," she made a rotating gesture with her hand, "maybe if he were happy with you, he wouldn't be so much of a town problem."

"Ah see." The way in which she drew out the sentence made it seem longer, and more menacing, than it actually was. "So Ah'm th' 'solution' ta th' town's 'problem.'" The bite in her voice was unmistakable.

Lauren shook her head, emitting a soft 'tsk, tsk' sound. "See, I knew you'd get upset."

No, she wasn't upset. She was furious. Not only did they brand Remy an outcast, they were now trying to essentially 'marry him off' to the preacher's daughter. As Lauren had put it earlier, she was their guarantee that he wouldn't do anything "funny." After all, a devil's flame couldn't singe an angel's wings, could it?

It would've been so easy to hate Lauren right then, to get up from the barbershop bench and storm off in a huff. But Marie knew it wouldn't solve anything. She could walk away from Lauren and her twisted views, but she would just run into someone else in town whose thoughts were exactly the same. The narrow barriers of prejudice were next to impossible to break down.

Knowing her friend's true point of view cemented Marie's decision to keep her feelings for Remy to herself -- as chaotic and confusing as they were. She no longer felt comfortable talking about it with Lauren, even though she was Marie's closest friend after Remy.

_But if Ah did tell her, what would Ah say? _she wondered, squeezing her eyes shut against the sunlight. _Would Ah tell her that Remy kissed me? _Just thinking about it brought a shiver up her spine. She could almost feel the soft pressure of his lips, his tongue slipping into her mouth, slyly meeting with her own. If she had allowed it, a small whimper would have escaped her throat. The memory was still so vivid in her mind.

_Would Ah tell Lauren how absolutely beautiful it was? How perfect an' sweet. Straight out o' a Hollywood movie. _She frowned slightly. _Complete with a Hollywood plot twist, too. Ah still haven't been able ta figure out what that kiss meant. Was it jus' Remy goofin' around an' showin' me how good he was at stealin'? Or were there actual feelin's behind it? _

Inwardly, she sighed. _Lauren wasn't kiddin' when she said Ah've been wantin' ta run in th' othah direction ev'ry time Ah'm in th' same room with Remy. It's like Ah don' know how ta act around him anymore, an' that scares me. _She mentally growled in frustration. _What in th' world is th' matter with me? One li'l kiss an' Ah'm over-analyzin' ev'rythin'! Ah am so close ta kickin' a particular Cajun's backside fo' causin' me so much trouble. _

Marie tried to calm herself, attempting to face the problem that had plagued her for the past several weeks. _But maybe Ah wouldn't have had this much trouble if Ah didn' feel somethin' fo' him. If Ah didn'... love him ta a certain extent? _The more the thought swirled around in her brain, the more she felt pulled to believe it. _That couldn't be it... could it? _

Before she could answer her own perplexing question, she heard the distinct sound of hard footfall pounding against the concrete. Her eyes flew open to see Jacob, a fellow junior in their high school, running furiously down Main Street.

As he was about to pass them, Lauren called out, "What's the matter, Jake?"

The tall, sandy-haired boy skidded to a halt when he heard her, almost surprised to see them back in town. His eyes were wild, seemingly scared, as he fought for breath.

"D... doc..." he panted, clutching at his chest. He squinted his eyes as the lack of oxygen caught up with him.

Marie rose from the bench and, stepping off of the sidewalk, joined him on the street. "Take it easy, sugah. Get some air first before you try ta talk."

Jake shook his head frantically. He grabbed her upper arms, tightening his grip and giving her a slight shake, as if the gesture would help him regain his ability to speak faster.

"Doc... Doctor Russell?" he managed to rasp out. "... game?"

Both girls stared at him in confusion.

"What?" asked Lauren. Two seconds later, it dawned on her. "Is he at the game?" Jake nodded, releasing his grip on Marie. "I didn't see him. He's probably in his office."

"What's goin' on?" Marie put in before he had the chance to take off. "What happened?"

He shook his head again, as if to say he didn't have the time to explain. "Need... to find him..."

"Jake!" Marie yelled, as he continued on his race to the clinic.

He looked over his shoulder long enough to shout, "Market!" before rushing down the street.

With a raised eyebrow, Lauren turned to Marie. "What the hell was that about?"

"Ah don' know," she replied, wondering what could possibly be happening at the general store that would make such a commotion. "We should take a look. Maybe we could help somehow."

The two friends set off in the direction Jake had come from. As they were passing the garage, still several feet from the market, Marie tried to keep her gaze away. But something managed to catch her eye. A wrench was lying just outside the main entrance. It was difficult to see really, nearly blending in perfectly with the dull gray of the concrete flooring, but every now and then the sun would shine off the metal surface. What surprised her the most was that it was even there. Jim was particular about his tools; he liked them all present and accounted for. To see one lying out of place, and technically outside of the garage, was cause for a second glance.

_Remy said he'd be workin' t'day; that's why he didn' come ta th' game._

"Marie!" Lauren called. She was a number of feet away and obviously annoyed that the other girl had stopped.

_Why would he need ta bring a wrench outside when all th' work ta be done is inside?_ Marie's eyes widened as a thought suddenly struck her. _Oh mah God! Remy! Somethin' must've happened ta him; he must've rushed out o' th' garage inna hurry an' dropped th' wrench! _

She turned back and made for the direction of the general store with renewed vigor, overtaking Lauren in the process. Marie could hear her friend's protests at being left behind but she no longer cared. She had to get to Remy and make sure that he was all right.

Although the distance between the garage and the store was short -- not more than a handful of buildings in between -- it might as well have been the Grand Canyon to Marie. She felt like she was running in slow motion with leaded shoes. Each step was a painful reminder that she was not quite there yet. As she ran, she could hear the blood throbbing in her ears, sweat forming at her brow and then trickling down her face. There had been only one time in her young life when she had prayed as hard as she was doing right then.

Finally arriving at the front of the store, she vaulted over the few steps to the entrance. Rushing past the open doorway, she was greeted by what looked like an empty shop. She peered over the shelves to the back of the large area, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar russet locks. Voices to her left caught her ear. She rushed down several aisles, only to be met by a small crowd of women blocking her path. She forced her way to the front of the group and then came to a dead stop.

Remy was there, looking wild-eyed and weary. Next to him was Mr. Ryan, the owner of the market.

Together, they were frantically administering CPR to an unconscious Susanne.

----

* Yes, I know. I'm a mean little writer. It's been about six weeks since I last updated. Real Life was holding me hostage, I tell you! And unfortunately no one was willing to post bail... But hey, look at the timing! Today's my birthday! *does little birthday dance* No one gets to say I look stupid because I got birthday rights!

* Hi to everyone on the HIT LIST! I love saying that. It makes me sound like a gangster or something... Damn! I didn't just say that! Now everyone'll know that I'm part of the Fanfiction mafia! Not that that really matters considering I'm both the founder and sole member of the organization... but still! ... Man, I need to get me some people. It's sad when you're the only person in your organized crime ring... ; )

* If you want to be added to the Hit List/Update List, just leave your email on the Review Board! : ) See you in the next six weeks! Just kidding... I hope... : )

_* Hope and pray for peace. No one wins with war. **No one.** * _


	7. A Thousand Fingers

**Disclaimer: **The disclaimer's gone missing. I'd put up posters and offer an award, but in all honesty, I don't really want it back...

**A/N: **I'm listening to MP3s at this very moment, meaning my ears have taken control and refuse to let my brain function properly. I can't write well when I have music playing in the background because I tend to follow the rhythms -- and let's face it, that just shoots my concentration all to hell. (Not that I had much to begin with.) I guess that means aside from the insanity, there will also be gibberish. Hit the Back button now if you want to escape. ; )

* This time around I blame the delay on _Chicago_ and its addictive soundtrack. I think that speaks for itself. ; )

* Thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! : ) I'd give you all a slice of birthday cake, but I ate it all... *burp!* ... 'scuse me... ; )

~ Marie, Sakura Scout, Lucky439, Cris-X, TrinityC, LinkinPark4ever, Mystical Sand, Wildcard00, AdiKatie -- *clears throat and smoothes out blazer* Roses are red... violets are blue. I suck at poetry... but thanks for the review! (... If you're gonna throw tomatoes, you might as well add some other veggies! At least then I can make a salad out of it! : )

~ Christy S, Eileen Blazer -- Ooh, now the Fanfiction mafia won't be a one-person delusion... er, organization! I've got fellow founders! I wonder if we can get the people on the HIT LIST to join... ; )

~ jelispar -- Chocolate cupcake! Gimme! ; ) *looks dubiously from carrots to plot bunnies* I don't know about giving those to them... They're looking particularly cute and innocent right now -- that's _never_ a good sign.

~ Mag Carter -- Be my guest. Feel free to punch Lauren all you want. But be careful. Fictional characters have a tendency to fight back. : )

~ Rupeshwari -- "Did your present to yourself have to have such a cliffhanger?" ... um... yes? : )

~ Flitz -- Wow... If you can really speak all those languages then my bilingual-ness is pretty pathetic in comparison. ; ) Thanks for the greetings!

~ Randirogue -- *hands fellow author a straitjacket* Welcome to the insanity, my friend. ; )

~ ishandahalf -- 1) OMG! Your story about the "lake" on your way back from Europe had me in stitches! I couldn't stop laughing! ; ) 2) Argh! I made _another_ angel analogy! I have _got_ to stop doing that! What's the count up to now, 3 descriptions in 2 stories? Any more and it'll become a trademark or something. 3) Shhh! Are you trying to give away the entire story before I get a chance to write it?! Quit predicting stuff and bite your tongue! ; )

~ T. -- Okay, okay, okay! Calm down! No need to jam your Caps Lock key! : ) ... Thanks, btw, for _both_ your reviews!

~ Samman -- Nice to hear from you again! Thanks for the suggestions and welcome back to the craziness! : )

~ bunny angel -- You're right on both accounts. : ) You have to remember that I _don't_ announce the flashbacks. So in order to tell if it is one or not, you have to pull it out of the context of each scene. The beginning of Chapter 6, with Remy in the jail cell, was the "present day." The football game and Marie's conversation with Lauren happened in the past. I mentioned that _that_ particular scene was a couple of weeks after Remy kissed Marie at the cove. I apologize for the confusion. : )

~ Disturbed Courtney -- Wait a minute... Does that mean you're _not_ joining the mafia?! But we have... And then there's... (Note to self: Figure out exactly what mafia has to offer people so they have incentive to join... ; )

~ Ryoko Subaru -- Since you changed your penname can I now call you 'The Writer Formerly Known as Sujakata'? : )

~ Bronny -- See, if I told you what was going to happen next... well then, you'd lose the motivation to come back and read. And I can't let _that_ happen, now can I? : ) If you do decide to read through all the reviews, make sure you have a good suit of armor on. That's what my muse always does and he barely gets out alive. ; )

~ Alwaysright -- Would you prefer to be hit with a baseball bat or a sledgehammer? ; )

~ Wishful Thinking, Girlonthem00n -- Yes, I know! I'm trying to cut down on my cliffhangers! Honest, I am! But going cold turkey is hard! Maybe there's a 12-step cliffhanger program I can join... ; )

~ Panther Nesmith -- No! Don't go sane again! There aren't enough of us crazy people around! (Well actually, there are, but just for the sake of argument... : )

~ Marvel -- Dammit! Where did that stupid loophole come from?! Uhh... You must be mistaken. I would _never_ say that I had the plot all figured out. Nuh-uh, not me... Nope. *twiddles thumbs together while making a pathetic attempt at whistling innocently*

~ Ysleta Smogi -- Thank you, thank you, thank you! : ) Yeah, it is a great song, isn't it? A really haunting melody.

~ katt -- I'm sorry, what? You kind of lost me there after the first exclamation point. ; ) Tsk, tsk, tsk. Playing hooky from cramming... What happened to the whole need-education-to-get-job, need-job-to-get-computer, need-computer-to-get-Internet, need-Internet-to-live argument? ; )

**CHAPTER 7  
A Thousand Fingers**

Lavender.

There was a hint of it in the air, filling his lungs like a familiar perfume. It should have been relaxing. It should have been soothing.

It was neither.

Remy found it hard to be anything while standing two feet from his mother's grave.

Susanne LeBeau, loving mother and friend, dead at age thirty-six.

The service had already ended. How long ago, he couldn't say. An hour perhaps, maybe two. A week could have gone by and he wouldn't have noticed. Time had finally stopped. And the pain that accompanied it was nothing short of excruciating. If he had tried, he still wouldn't have been able to wrap his brain around it, still wouldn't have been able to understand. She was too young to die, too young to have a heart attack.

And now he was alone. No father... no mother... no family. How easy it would be to follow his mother into the grave. How clear and simple. Just one bullet's kiss away. No complications. No fuss. How easy.

Quiet sobbing broke the blackened silence around him.

Marie was crying freely at his side, shedding the tears that he could not. Her soft features were stained with sadness and grief, while one of her hands were securely guarded by his own, his fingers snaking through hers. The warmth from her skin was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing keeping him sane.

The lavender had been her idea, scattering the small mauve flowers about the area for the ceremony. She knew it was his mother's favorite scent, and as crazy as it may have sounded, she wanted to make sure that Susanne could enjoy the fragrance one last time.

Gradually Marie's weeping turned into heart-wrenching wails, and she crumpled to the earth. Susanne had been like a second mother to her, and the pain of losing yet another mother was simply too much.

Remy followed her movements and settled on the ground beside her. Wrapping his arms around her form, he pulled her toward him and gently tucked her head under his chin. He could feel the sorrow wracking her body and heard it echo in his own. Together they sat there, clinging to one another, mourning the loss of the woman they both loved.

- oOo -

_Maman..._

The pain had dulled as the months passed, but he didn't think the void in his soul would ever be filled. It had been a little over a year since his mother's death. But despite the wonderful memories he had, it was still difficult for him to think of her at times. One of the things that hurt more than anything was the fact that Susanne had died a few months before Remy graduated from high school. It was one of the times when he felt her absence the most. Such an important milestones in his young life, and his mother wasn't there to share it with him. Margaret, Reverend Johnson and Marie had all attended, and while he appreciated their support immensely, walking across the stage without a mother beaming with pride simply didn't seem the same.

During the months following his mother's passing, it helped to know that Marie was there for him, and that she knew what it was like to lose a mother. Their shared pain had brought them closer than ever, and they had spent countless afternoons grieving at the river's edge.

Marie and Susanne had been Remy's anchors, his only reasons for staying in Hazard. When his mother died, he had almost been ready to pack up and leave the small town. Almost. Marie had stopped him. Without saying a word, without even knowing of his internal conflict to stay or to go, she had the power to stop him. He didn't have the strength to leave her. He didn't _want_ the strength to leave her.

So he stayed. For Marie. If he had been completely honest with himself, he would have realized that he was _waiting_ for Marie. Waiting for her to finish school so that he could make good on his promise to ride with her to New York City, and watch her fulfill her dreams.

And what did that get him? A year later, he was now sitting in a jail cell, panicking more at the thought that he had no idea where she was, rather than at the fact that he'd been arrested because of her disappearance.

"Remy."

He glanced up, entirely surprised to see Reverend Johnson standing on the other side of his cell. "_M'sieu..."_ He immediately stood. "Did dey find her?" It was a useless question, really. Remy could tell from the way the older man's shoulders were heavy with sadness that they hadn't, but he still felt the need to ask.

"No," the Reverend answered simply. He took a step closer and wrapped his fingers around the bars of the cell.

A heavy silence fell between them. Remy wasn't sure of what to say. Though he'd only been in police custody for an hour or so, there was no doubt the news of his arrest had traveled through town with lightning speed, reaching every ear within a two-mile radius. Reverend Johnson would have heard the rumors, the ones the townsfolk would pull out of thin air, and there was a chance he would believe them. Remy didn't think he would -- the Reverend and Marie never put much stock into the constant rumors that flew around town -- but there was still a chance. After all, it was his daughter that was missing.

"_M'sieu,_ you have t'know dat I didn' -- "

"I know, son," the Reverend quickly interrupted, meeting Remy's eyes squarely. "I know." He reached into the cell and offered his hand. Without hesitation, Remy took it. "How are you doing?"

"_Je ne sais pas_ [I don't know]." He sighed in frustration. "Jus' sittin' here, doin' not'in', is drivin' me crazy. I need t'go out dere an' look f'r her. I need t'find her."

The Reverend nodded. He knew exactly how Remy felt because he was feeling it too. And even though he had the physical freedom to actually search for his daughter -- unlike Remy, who was being detained -- it wouldn't have done any good. Both men, as well as the Sheriff and his deputy, had scoured every inch of the town. It was unlikely that any new evidence would have been found.

Remy glanced over the older man's shoulder to see Deputy Stephens lounging at his desk with the local newspaper. "Surprised dey let you in t'see me. T'ought f'r sure dey'd try t'throw de key away."

Instead of replying to his comment, the Reverend pulled a chair closer to the jail cell and sat down. "Have you talked ta th' Sheriff yet?" he asked.

"_Non. M'sieu_ Stephens tells me dat de Sheriff is off talkin' t'some o' de good townsfolk. He'll be back in a li'l bit t'deal wit' me."

"What have they told you so far?"

"Dat I've been arrested f'r suspicion o' wrongdoin'. Other dan dat, not'in'." He shrugged. "Jus' gon' have t'wait f'r de Sheriff t'come an' beat a confession out o' me while de Deputy stands around pretendin' he doesn't know what's goin' on." He was joking of course, trying to add some levity to the mood, however inappropriate it was.

Inwardly, David Johnson sighed. He knew Remy well enough to recognize one of the younger man's favorite defense mechanisms: making use of humor to cover up the emotional storm raging within. The Reverend knew better than to encourage him further by offering a direct response. Instead, he stated, "It'll be all right, son. Ah'll talk ta th' Sheriff and get you out of here."

"No offense, Reverend," he moved to settle himself back on the cot, "but I t'ink dis situation's a bit more complicated dan gettin' me out o' dose li'l scrapes like you used to. Doubt even you c'n rescue me from dis one."

The Reverend wasn't swayed by the obvious display of pessimism. "Have faith, Remy."

The earnest quality of his tone was admirable, to say the least. But the young Cajun wasn't quite sure he could heed the advice. Faith had never really been his strong suit; it was more so Marie's. She was the one that helped him believe in the unbelievable. He didn't want to think about who would help him with his cynicism if she never came back.

"Don' t'ink I have any more o' dat stuff, _m'sieu,"_ he whispered, resting his forearms on his knees and lowering his gaze to the floor. "T'ink I lost dat recently."

"Son, look at me. _Look_ at me," ordered the Reverend when his command went unheeded. Remy lifted his head and turned in the older man's direction. "We'll find her. We will... Ah promise..."

- oOo -

"... Ah promise! Please!"

"It ain't happenin', _chère."_

"Mah treat. Anythin' you want. You can order th' entire menu fo' all Ah care!"

"When we started dis you told me not t'give in t'any o' ya pleadin' or beggin'."

"Yeah, Ah know, but Ah didn' think you'd actu'lly listen ta me!"

They were settled atop the fallen tree at their cove. Remy was turned toward the setting sun, a thick textbook open on his lap. Marie was less than a foot behind him, facing his back and pouting.

"Okay, what if Ah promised ta finish th' Harley?" she continued. "Hmm? _Then_ can we take a break?"

He snorted. "Nice try, _chère,_ but de Harley _is_ finished. All I got t'do is polish her down. Ya got not'in'."

She scowled at his response. "What if Ah cleaned yoah _entire_ house? Top ta bottom."

"No deal." He felt a slight vibration run through the tree trunk and, without looking over his shoulder, knew that she had literally laid down in defeat.

"Yoah evil, sugah. Pure, unadulterated evil!" she hissed theatrically. "Mah brain's tired, it can't take much more o' this torture. Ah need a break."

He reached behind him and patted her knee in encouragement. "C'mon, _chère,_ it's not dat bad."

"Easy fo' you ta say! You graduated last year. You don' have ta study fo' any more tests!"

"Whatever happened t' 'Don' you think finishin' high school's important?'" he asked, mimicking her Mississippi accent.

"Well, that's all fine an' dandy when Ah'm not sufferin' from information overload!" she whined. "Ah'm hungry! How are mah brain cells s'pposed ta work when they're starvin'?"

Remy looked down at the book he was using to quiz Marie, and smirked. She had been complaining about her current situation for the past half hour. And while most people would have found her behavior annoying, he was finding it highly amusing.

"This is all Lauren's fault," she declared with another pout. "Ah make one li'l comment about psychology at a football game, an' she decides ta take me seriously an' make a career out o' it!"

"You could've chosen another elective, y'know."

"No, Ah couldn't have! She _dragged_ me inta it! Ah had no choice!"

He chuckled.

Marie shot up like a rocket. "Are you laughin' at me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yup." He could feel her quick retort bubbling to the surface. But before she could say anything, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Tell ya what, _petite._ We'll finish dis last chapter an' den we'll go over an' see what Maggie's got on special. 'Kay?" Even from the corner of his eye, he could see her entire face lit up.

"Promise?"

"T'ieves' honor."

She suddenly threw her body against his and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Oh, thank you, Remy. Ah love you."

Mentally, he stiffened at her words, but fought hard to keep his body calm. Even though her comment was offhanded and casually thrown, his mind took in its meaning for all it was worth.

Shrugging his shoulders to playfully dislodge her embrace, he ordered, "Back t'work, _belle."_ He glanced down at the book once again. "'Learnin' occurs when a new stimulus begins t'elicit behavior similar t'dat originally produced by an old stimulus.'"

It only took her a moment to recall the answer. She leaned forward and rested her right index finger on the back of Remy's shirt. In a light, circular motion, she brought the digit around counterclockwise, stopping several inches away from her starting point. She then lifted her forefinger and brought it to the top of his back, pulling it straight down and completing the second letter. She continued on until she had finished all twenty-one letters of her answer.

"Well?" she inquired. "Did Ah get it right?"

"_Oui._ Classical conditionin'. One point f'r you, _chère."_

She grinned. "Yey, me..." Peering over his shoulder, she said, "This would go a lot faster if Ah didn' have ta spell out ev'ry answer."

"True," he replied. "But at least dis way you c'n mem'rize all dese names. You know how teachers are -- one letter out o' place an' ya whole answer's wrong. Case in point," he pulled the book away from her line of sight and glanced back in her direction, "who was de _homme_ behind dat type o' learnin'?"

Marie returned to her earlier position and began 'writing' her answer on Remy's back. "P-A-V-L-O-V." She finished with a flourish. "Ivan Petrovich Pavlov. Born in 1849, died in 1936. Won th' 1904 Nobel Prize fo' medicine fo' his research in digestion. Liked dogs."

"_Chère..."_

"Okay, not so much _liked_ dogs, as worked with them." She sighed. "This is stupid. Why does th' test even have fill-in-th'-blank items in th' first place? Why couldn't Mr. Collins make it _all_ essays questions? That would've made more sense seein' how psychology deals with a whole bunch o' theories an' stuff. All this identification junk is gonna fly right out o' mah head two days aftah th' test anyway."

Remy, for his part, seemed to be paying her no mind as he thumbed through the textbook for more things to ask her. "You finished wit' de latest installment o' de why-teachers-are-cruel-an'-unusual-creatures debate?"

"Almost. Ah mean, in th' great scheme o' things, how important is it ta know when th' man died? It's not like Ah'm gonna pay mah respects ev'ry year on his death anniversary." Her body went limp as her impassioned argument faded away. "'Kay, Ah'm done now."

"Finally," he joked. "_Bien..._ who developed de therapy wit' de goal o' helpin' clients reach self-actualization?" Several long moments of silence followed. "Quit lookin' over m'shoulder f'r de answer, Marie!" he chided knowingly.

"How did you...?" Pulling away from his frame, she could only gape at him in disbelief. "Hmph... killjoy. Well, Ah know he's one o' th' Carl's... Can Ah guess?"

"Is dat what ya gon' do on de exam?"

"That _was_ th' plan." She grinned. "Unless you want ta sit outside, underneath th' windowsill, an' feed me th' answers."

"Only if you pay me."

She rested her forehead against his upper back and tried to concentrate. Suddenly, her face lit up. "Rogers!" She smiled in triumph. "It was Carl Rogers. Ha!"

"Okay, den who was -- "

"No!" Again wrapping her arms around his waist, she pleaded, "Sugah, let's stop already... please?"

Remy frowned, though Marie couldn't see it from her position. To be honest, he didn't want to stop. He was enjoying having her arms around him, as well as the sensation of her fingers running along his back when she spelled out an answer. Her feather-light touch was slowly driving him to the brink of insanity, and he would have willingly crossed over if it meant that he could gather her in his arms and repeat the kiss they had shared more than a year ago.

At the time of that kiss, he had planned to talk to her about the strange feelings he'd been experiencing. He didn't really understand the unfamiliar ache that seeped into his body whenever Marie was around. It took him the better part of a month to realize that he was in love with her. Completely and without question. Love was the only explanation for the gnawing bite of jealousy he felt whenever she was affectionate towards a male classmate. It was the only reason for her constant presence in his thoughts. It was the only justification for the unconditional concern he had for her. And it was the only basis for the burning itch in his skin that could only be sated by her touch. He had every intention of telling her in the days that followed the kiss, but she'd been distant... almost as if she were avoiding him. And he had lost his nerve.

And then his mother had died, and any romantic feelings for Marie had been pushed to the back of his mind. It had been more important for the both of them to mourn Susanne's passing, and in order to do so they needed to lean on each other simply as friends.

But in the last few months he could sense those old feelings worming their way back into the forefront of his brain, reminding him of the risk he'd been willing to take all those months before. The question now was, was he still willing to take that same risk?

"You jus' wan' stop so you c'n watch de sunset," he teased, shutting the heavy textbook and tossing it next to her backpack.

"Well yeah, but can you really blame me? Look how pretty that is." She gestured to the violet and orange symphony painted across the sky. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she looked at him questioningly. "Switch seats?"

"Sure." He waited for her to climb off the trunk so that he could slide back and settle into her old spot. Taking her hand, he helped her up again, silently pleased when she leaned back against his chest. Almost of their own volition, his arms curled protectively around her upper body. "Comfortable?" he murmured into her hair. He took in a deep breath, memorizing the scent of sweet grass and vanilla.

"Hmm..." she purred. "This is nice."

They sat quietly for several moments, just listening to the sounds of nature around them, lulling them into a peaceful frame of mind.

Finally, as the last of the sun's fingers slipped under the horizon, Marie broke the spell. "Ah was in th' market th' othah day an' Ah heard Mrs. Patterson talkin'... She was tryin' ta convince Mrs. Watkins that you should've been sent ta social services aftah yoah momma died 'cause you weren't quite eighteen yet. She said you paid somebody ta forge yoah birth certificate or somethin' so it'd look like you were old enough ta live on yoah own."

Although Remy heard her, he gave no outward sign that he had. Mrs. Patterson, along with a few others, was constantly looking for ammunition against him -- it was nothing new. As long as they didn't hurt anyone he was close to, he couldn't care less what they said.

"You shouldn't let it bother you, _chèrie._ Dey're jus' talkin' trash."

"Ah know. It's jus' irritatin', is all. Like yoah th' only person in th' world ta turn eighteen before you graduated high school." She used her hands to steady herself on Remy's thighs as she stretched out her legs in front of her. "A couple o' days aftah th' funeral, Lauren told me that Mrs. Patterson thought you were responsible fo' yoah momma's..." Her voice trailed off, realizing her slip a little too late.

They thought he was responsible for his mother's passing. Or more precisely, they wanted to _make_ him responsible for her passing. Never mind the fact that Doctor Russell had declared cardiac arrest as Susanne's cause of death. Never mind the fact that he had been working in the garage when she collapsed in the market.

"Remy, Ah'm sorry," Marie whispered. "Ah didn' mean ta bring that up."

He merely nodded against her hair, certain that she could feel the motion, if not see it. Deciding to change the direction of their conversation, he said, "So ya still close t'Lauren?"

"Yeah, which is surprisin'."

Raising an eyebrow, he asked her curiously, "_Pourquoi?_ [Why?]"

"Well, she said some things a while ago that were really narrow-minded, an' Ah didn' like it." She shrugged. "But it's not like Ah can change her mind or anythin'; she's pretty dead set in her opinion."

"About what?"

Marie waved her hand dismissively. "Jus' some stuff."

He could sense her reluctance to discuss the topic and it intrigued him. "Dere's somet'in' you don' want t'tell me."

She shook her head, which in turn caused her hair to swish against his chest. "No, there's not."

"Yes, dere is."

"Not."

"Is."

"Not."

"Is."

"No-- "

"Catherine Marie Johnson -- "

"Hey, no fair full-namin' me!"

"You gave me no choice, _chère."_ He slid his hands to her waist. "Either talk, or I'll..."

"You'll what?" she demanded confidently, a smug grin on her features. "There's nothin' you can do that would make me -- "

Without letting her finish, he scooped her up and raced over to the river's edge, dangling her precariously over the water.

"Remy, no!" she squealed, hooking her arms around his neck in a futile effort to save herself.

"Not'in' I c'n do, eh? Dis looks like a pretty big not'in' t'me." He dipped his bare toes into the stream. "Pretty cold too, an' gettin' colder by de minute."

"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed.

He smirked cheekily at her. "You so sure 'bout dat, _petite?"_

Without another word, he threw her into the river, making sure his arm was close enough for her to grasp so that she could 'drag' him in with her. Marie broke the water's surface with a loud splash, Remy following a few seconds after.

"Ah can't believe you did that!" she accused, blinking rapidly to squeeze the water from her eyes.

Remy submerged himself once more before resurfacing and smoothing both hands over his wet hair. "Should know better dan t'challenge me, _chèrie._ T'ieves never back down from a challenge."

"Swamp rat, you are toast!" she yelled, cupping her hands and splashing him with the cold river water. "Do you hear me?! Toast!" She screeched when Remy got even with his own wave of retaliation. But in the back of her mind she was thankful for the distraction. She didn't want to recount for him the old conversation she'd had with Lauren.

- oOo -

"Give me yoah hands, Remy," Reverend Johnson requested, reaching inside the cell.

The younger man gave him a look full of speculation, but complied without question. "Why?"

"We're going ta pray."

"I'm Catholic, _m'sieu."_

"That doesn't matter. We're both Christian." He smiled kindly. "We believe in th' same God. We just choose ta worship differently." He made the sign of the cross and patiently waited for Remy to do the same, before reciting the Lord's Prayer. When he had finished, he continued on with a string of prayers he'd committed to memory.

Twenty minutes later, the door of the police station swung open and both men lifted their heads. Sheriff Miller, taking notice of the Reverend's presence, tipped his hat in polite greeting.

"Evenin', Reverend."

"Sheriff." He rose to his feet, releasing Remy's hands. "Ah was wondering if Ah could have a word with you."

The Sheriff's eyes shifted from Remy to the older man across from him. "'Course. Let's go into my office."

- oOo -

Marie adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag as she hiked through the field. The sun was hot, but she barely took notice. She was too elated to care. Even the heavy load of her textbooks weren't weighing her down. Life was good from all angles and the trivial things were just that -- trivial. If she were any more euphoric she would be skipping through the grass with a sunflower tucked behind her ear and an idiotic grin plastered on her face.

"Remy!" she called as soon as she spotted his figure lounging on a blanket in the cove. "Guess what!"

"We play dat game a li'l too often, _chère,"_ he teased, eyes closed and hands locked behind his head. "Why don' you jus' come right out an' say it?"

"'Cause then Ah can't be all dramatic an' suspenseful." When he remained silent, she persisted, "Are you gonna guess or not?"

"Umm... _non?"_

She saw the pull of a grin start at the corner of his lips and immediately knew he was in a playful mood. She gracefully stretched out beside him, stopping only when she was a hairbreadth away. "Guess who got th' highest mark on that psychology test."

His brow furrowed in concentration. "Dat really smart _homme_ wit' de wire-rim glasses?"

"Ah'll let that comment slide 'cause Ah know yoah jus' an ignorant swamp rat." When he still didn't give her an answer, she cried out in exasperation, "Sugah, you could at least play along! Ah didn' skip dinner an' then come all th' way from th' library jus' so you could ignore me in mah hour o' glory!"

He grinned and opened his eyes. "So ev'ryone was burnin' wit' jealousy, eh?"

"Absolutely scorchin'!" She returned his smile. "Ah told 'em they should all think 'bout hirin' you fo' a tutor."

He snorted. "Dat'll be de day."

"And..." She reached into her bag and pulled her test paper out. "... Mr. Collins thought mah answers on th' essay questions were both 'profound' an' 'insightful.'"

"How much money did you pay him?"

Swatting him on his stomach, she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "He asked me if Ah evah thought 'bout becomin' a psychologist, said Ah had potential."

"So ya givin' up de glitz an' glamour o' showbiz f'r de muck an' mire o' other people's problems? Talk about a career change, _belle."_

"Ah didn' say Ah was actu'lly goin' to..."

"But you were t'inkin' 'bout it -- even jus' f'r a second."

"Well, jus' fo' a second." She scooted even closer to him, resting her chin and hands on his chest. "But th' call o' showbiz is strong. It cannot be denied," she declared dramatically. On impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Her movement was so sudden that all Remy could do was stare. The shock that ran through him was sharp and instantaneous, heating up his entire body in two seconds flat. And from the surprised expression on Marie's face, he was willingly to bet that she'd felt the exact same thing.

"Ah... Ah'm sorry," she stammered. "Ah jus'... Ah mean... thank you. That… that was a thank you. Fo' helpin' me with th' test..."

Part of his mind was sternly telling him to leave it at that, to come up with some witty repartee to cover the awkward moment that had befallen them. But another part -- the _louder_ part -- told him to reach for her... and to never let go.

He opted to listen to the one screaming in his ear.

His hand weaved its way through her hair to settle at the base of her skull. With gentle pressure, he pulled her down toward him, keeping his eyes locked with hers; ready to let her go if she chose to pull away. He lightly brushed his lips against hers, still giving her the opportunity to back out. Her soft moan told him that she had no intention of doing so. He continued, delicately running his tongue over her lips, asking for her permission to enter. He felt them part and he forged on, wrapping his arms around her waist and fully pulling her on top of him.

Marie's hands also buried themselves into his hair, musing the russet locks again and again. Her tongue ran over the length of his teeth before uniting with his own. She couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to be pressed up against his body, how natural and right. And yet at the same time, so very... sinful.

With a whimpering moan, she broke the kiss and slowly opened her eyes. Remy did the same, and she could see the familiar red energy crackling around his irises -- the same sight that greeted her the last time they had kissed, more than a year ago.

He raised a hand to her cheek, lovingly caressing her skin. "You still taste... incredible," he murmured in awe. Strands of her hair were falling around her eyes. With infinite concern, he gently tucked them behind her ears before cupping her face in his hands. "... so beautiful..." He moved to kiss her again but she abruptly leaned back against the arms that encircled her.

"Let me go," she whispered, bracing herself against his chest.

Confusion spread across his features. Numbly, he complied, watching her scramble away from him. She resettled herself several feet to his right, kneeling close enough to reach out and touch but still too far -- or so it seemed to him. One of her hands flew to her throat in what looked like an unconscious gesture. The movement caused his heart to sink. She was making sure her mother's necklace was still in place.

"What're you doin', Remy?"

Her voice was so soft he could barely hear it over the surrounding sounds of nature. Instead of giving her an answer, he propped himself up on an elbow and silently watched her as she watched him.

"What're you doin'?!" she demanded for the second time, her eyes hardening. "What in th' hell do you think yoah doin'?"

She was clearly upset. The only time he had ever heard her swear was when they were flambéing dinner and had almost burned her house down. "I was kissin' you."

"Yeah, Ah got that part. Th' question is _why."_

"T'ought dat would've been pretty obvious."

Her brow furrowed in anger. "Stop playin' games, Remy. It ain't funny. Ah don' like bein' used."

"Who said anyt'in' 'bout usin' you, _chère?_ Didn' seem t'me like you were objectin' all dat much."

"Jus' stop," she ordered again, standing and gathering her bag to leave. " Whatevah yoah doin', jus' stop."

He took off after her, grabbing her arm. "What is dis, Marie? What's goin' on?" He was shocked to find unshed tears glistening in her eyes when she turned back to face him.

"Why don' _you_ tell me what's goin' on, Remy?" she bit out, twisting away from him. She pelted him a venomous glare. "Why do you keep kissin' me? Is it 'cause Ah'm convenient? Or maybe 'cause it's been ovah a year since yoah last steady girlfriend?"

He could only gape at her. "I've got no idea where dis is comin' from, _chèrie,_ but -- "

"This is comin' from me, Remy," she declared, pointing to herself. She began to shake her head. "You can't keep doin' this. You can't keep playin' with mah emotions, makin' me _feel_ like this an' then have ev'rythin' go back ta th' way it was..."

His head shot up at the word 'feel.' _Is she...?_

"... It jus' doesn't work that wa-- "

She was cut off by another one of his kisses, effectively interrupting her tirade. She tried to remain stiff, to ignore the delicious burning that she felt all the way down to her toes, but it was pointless. Her hands sought his body out, her lips responding to his touch.

Finally backing away breathless, he whispered, "I t'ink you know de reason why I kissed you." He followed the outline of her lips with his forefinger. "I t'ink you know 'cause you feel it, too. You feel dat pull between us..." Leaning into her, he brushed his mouth against her ear, feeling her shiver. "... jus' like a magnet, drawin' me close t'you..."

Marie gasped when she felt his tongue creep out and lightly touch the tip of her earlobe. Her knees buckled and she needed to tighten her grip on Remy's arms to steady herself. The sensation was scaring her.

"Ya temptation personified... ev'ryt'in' dat I want... not'in' I c'n have..."

She kept her eyes lowered, afraid of what she might see. "Ah... Ah don' understand..."

Smiling sadly, he murmured, "You don' have t'understand, _petite._ Even _I_ don' understand. One day you were my best friend, de next you were someone else's t'hold..."

Her gaze snapped to his. "Is that all this is? Someone else wanted me so you suddenly decided ta take an interest?"

"_Non, mon chèrie..._ Dis isn't a fleetin' t'ing." He smirked. "Else it wouldn't have lasted a whole year an' a half -- give or take a few agonizin' months. Why d'you t'ink I haven't had a girlfriend in so long?"

She looked at him questioningly. "What are you sayin', Remy? That you... that we..."

He grinned at her loss of words. "_Oui._ I'm sayin' I wan' be wit' you." He smoothed her hair back. "But only if you want to, _mignonne._ I won't force you t'do anyt'in' you don' want t'do."

She frowned. Her ability to comprehend seemed suddenly tainted. She was having difficulty concentrating and pulling all this new information into the decision-making portion of her brain.

Abruptly, she looked up at him. With a shy smile, she said, "You've never called me that before." At his blank stare, she clarified, "_Mignonne._ It's th' first time Ah've heard you use it."

"It's not de first time I've wanted to." He didn't like the pensive expression that gradually spread across her face.

"Remy... Ah don' want ta jump inta jus' anythin'. Ah mean, whatevah it is Ah'm feelin', it's scarin' me. What if we're makin' a mistake? What if this isn't right fo' us? What if we lose our friendship 'cause we thought we had somethin' when we really didn't?" The words fell out of her mouth in a rush of syllables.

"Shh, _petite,"_ he consoled, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I understand. I'm not makin' you decide right dis minute. If you need time t' t'ink 'bout t'ings, den you go right ahead. I told you, I'm not gon' rush you inta anyt'in'."

"Yoah... yoah not mad?" she inquired tentatively.

"_Non."_ Wryly, he grinned. "T'ough I've got a feelin' dat even if I were mad, you wouldn't care all dat much. You'd still do what you wanted." He took a step back, releasing his hold on her and shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's gettin' dark. We should head over t'de garage. Still got Mr. Robinson's transmission t'fix."

Marie shook her head. "Ah think Ah'll stay here. You go on ahead."

He looked at her doubtfully. "You sure? Ya gon' be okay by yaself?"

"This is Hazard, Remy, not New York City." She moved away from the cove's entrance so that he could pass. "This town's so safe they even let thieves live here."

She gave him a tight smile. It wasn't exactly the kind of cheerfulness he was used to seeing from her, but at least she was 'normal' enough to make attempts at bad jokes.

"Don' really like de t'ought o' you goin' home by yaself... it's a pretty long walk..."

"Ah'm not an invalid, sugah. Ah can take care o' mahself." She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go on with ya. Ah'm gonna sit here an' think a bit."

Reluctantly, Remy climbed over the fallen tree. When he turned back to look at her, he found her emerald eyes watching him intently. "See you t'morrow, _chère?"_ he asked.

She nodded. "T'morrow."

With that, he made his way downriver to the path that would lead him back to town.

- oOo -

No one could accuse James Miller of being a soft touch. He had been raised by a stern military man with a heavy hand for discipline. And while he'd taken after his father in some respects, James learned through his own experience that being overbearing and domineering was not always the most effective approach. Through the years of raising his own children -- and grandchildren, though he would like to think he was not _that_ old -- he'd found a practical blend between the two, which allowed him to play both the disciplinarian and the 'cool' father figure. But when it came to his job as the sheriff of Hazard, he more often than not found himself straying back to his roots.

"Now, what can I do for you, Reverend?" he asked.

The man on the opposite side of his desk sat straight and tall, surprisingly comfortable for a parent whose daughter was missing. "Ah want you ta release Remy."

The Sheriff shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Reverend. Not even for you."

"James, he's done nothing wrong. You can't hold him here."

"I've got the authority to detain him for forty-eight hours."

"On what grounds?"

"Suspicion of wrongdoin'."

The Reverend leaned forward in his seat. "You and Ah both know that's a ridiculous charge."

"Are you sure about that?" He leaned back and steepled his fingers together, studying the other man.

"What are getting at?" Reverend Johnson narrowed his eyes. "What are you trying ta say?"

"How well do you know Remy?"

"He's Marie's best friend. Ah know him almost as well as she does."

"Do you know where he was last night?"

The Reverend hesitated. "Well no, but that doesn't change th' fact that -- "

"He mentioned somethin' about workin' yesterday evenin'." The Sheriff rustled through the pages of a small notebook and then lifted his gaze. "But no one can verify if he was actually at the garage or not. Even Jim Travis doesn't recall Remy mentionin' any overtime he was plannin' on puttin' in." He made sure he had the Reverend's full attention before continuing. "But we _do_ have an eyewitness placin' him near the river late last night, only a few yards from where we found Marie's necklace."

The Reverend stared in disbelief. "That's... that's impossible. There must be some kind of mistake."

"I'm afraid not. Don Robinson gave us a one hundred percent _positive_ ID. It was Remy."

_It's not possible,_ the Reverend repeated silently. _Remy would __**never**__ do anything ta hurt Marie._

"I'm sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, Reverend," the Sheriff was saying. "I know how disturbin' it is to find out someone isn't who you thought they were. In fact, my youngest boy Larry..." He trailed off when he noticed the other man's lack of attention. Realizing they had both lost focus, he cleared his throat to get them back to the matter at hand. "Like I said, right now we can only keep him here for forty-eight hours. But as soon as we get him to tell us what he's done with your daughter, we can lock him up for good."

Reverend Johnson didn't respond. He could only stare ahead blankly, contemplating the possibility that the Sheriff might be right. Maybe he was simply too trusting, too quick to believe in a person's innate goodness. He'd been wrong about others before; he could very well be wrong about Remy now. With his daughter's welfare at risk, he wasn't sure he was willing to make that mistake again.

----

* Okay, so by my standards, that was _not_ a cliffhanger. (Whoo-hoo! First time in a _long_ time I didn't end with one of those! ; ) For those of you who see it as such... well, let's just agree to disagree, shall we? : )

* Did you guys notice the subtle hints in the last flashback with Marie, pertaining to _when_ that scene occured? Please tell me you did 'cause if you didn't I might as well pack up my computer now and quit...

* I have the distinct feeling that I screwed something up with the whole Remy-arrest situation, like I completely mangled the criminal justice system. Honestly, I did research the topic but I didn't find _exactly_ what I wanted. So if anyone notices big, gaping plot holes, please let me know. : )


	8. Safe and Sound

**Disclaimer: **The disclaimer, along with my muse and all the plot bunnies have been camping inside the local movie theater ever since X2 opened. I don't think they have any intention of going home until that movie's finished its entire run.

~ TrinityC, T., Cris-X, Mag Carter, Mystical Sand, Randirogue, Wishful Thinking, Lucky439, Kizmet, Rogue Worrior Spirit, Rads, Neoen, GrinningContrivance -- Well, it's a relief to know that I'm not completely inept as a writer. Thanks for the reviews and letting me know that you got that last flashback. : ) Once I've taken over Bill Gates' empire I'll make sure you guys get a hefty bonus. I'd say that'd be sometime next year, if everything goes according to plan. ; )

~ Panther Nesmith -- Yeah, I know. Poor Baby Albert going into life being afraid of _everything_ white and fuzzy because of the way Pavlov conditioned his mind. And if I'm not mistaken, he brought that with him well into adulthood. Can you imagine a grown man afraid of something like a cotton ball as a result of that experiment? (Stay away from me, you intimidating piece of white fluff!) Don't get me wrong; I know that sort of research is vital in understanding and learning more, but the lengths we have to go to in the name of science... Well, the whole thing about being safe in Hazard actually wasn't one of those 'subtle hints' I was talking about, but I can see why it would be perceived as one... Ahh, another willing member of the mafia! Slowly but surely we're growing into an organized crime ring to be reckoned with!

~ Rupeshwari, Christy S -- I was pretty iffy on using the term 'suspicion of wrongdoing' because, frankly, I don't know what they'd call Remy's charge. But I do know that officers have the authority to arrest someone if they _suspect_ that person of doing something shady. And according to the Sheriff's eyewitness, Remy did. But yeah, if someone knowledgeable points out that I fell into a big old plot hole, then I am most definitely blaming it on the small town mentality! ; )

~ Disturbed Courtney -- Ha! No way am I writing more until _you_ get the next chapter of _Street Livin'_ up! Absolutely not! I'm putting my foot down! No more _Hazard_ until -- *suddenly notices completed chapter below* ... Ahh crap!

~ Sakura Scout, Jean1, vagabond, Eileen Blazer, Ryoko Subaru -- *looks back and forth between reviews and plot line checklist* Hmm... uh-huh... okay... interesting... Yeah, that would be another no-comment-under-the-threat-of-death-by-the-plot-bunnies-who-are-by-the-way-still-in-the-cinema-watching-X2-but-have-the-power-to-rip-all-appendages-from-my-body-with-a-twitch-of-their-cute-little-noses. You understand... ; )

~ ishandahalf -- 1) Hey! I want the interpretive dance! 2) The 'pure, unadulterated evil' line kind of snuck up on me. I wasn't thinking about it when I was typing it, but a few days later I saw you use it for someone else's story. Then I thought, "Great fanfiction gods! Ish's insanity is now unconsciously mixing with my own insanity! The world's not ready for such a catastrophe!" 3) Congratulations on acing your chem test without even studying! I hope you rubbed it in everybody's faces, as is only proper. ; ) 4) I think you need to keep a score sheet for all your 'queens of mushiness' 'cause you gave that particular title to Seven Sunningdale, not Eileen. Though I think she deserves one too. And if I'm duking it out with anyone, then I'm _not_ doing spandex. I gotta have some dignity left. ; ) 5) You were yelling at your computer screen? ... And you say _I_ have issues... ; ) 6) Ooh, a parade! Good plan! 7) "... something's afoot!" That always made me wonder. Why afoot? Why not a-hand? Or an-arm? A-leg? What's so special about feet? 8) Rest assured, you're as insane as you ever were... ; )

~ Flitz -- Wow... complex, sugar-filled equation. If only they had those in schools, then Math would be the easiest subject for anyone with a sweet tooth. : )

~ jebrylla -- Thanks for the sound advice on the music issue -- whoa, that was such an obvious pun. ; ) My brother, who's also a writer, has no problem doing what you do: writing with music playing in the background; he's actually more productive that way. The thing with me is, I love music probably just as much as I love writing, so those two things kind of battle it out to see who gets priority in my brain. I don't know why, but I simply can't do anything analytical while music is playing. I get distracted and -- horror of horrors! -- I start to sing. (If you're _really_ unlucky, I start to dance. ; ) ... "One could say you're sadistically enjoying this." One could say that... and one would be right! ; )

~ missy42 -- Yup, poor Remy's going out of his skull. Especially when you consider the fact that he's stuck in a jail cell with nothing to do but think... Ooh, Hugh Jackman... I would start drooling, but I'm afraid I might drown the computer. ; ) Hugh was on Letterman the other week but dammit, I missed it!

~ jelispar -- Well, I could start whining like a five year old right along with you... at least then you'd have some company. 'Course people would probably try to whack us on our backsides to shut us up, and we all know _that's_ never a good thing.

~ Tinkerclaire -- "Only seven chapters?! HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE MORE?!?!?!" Umm... 'cause my muse and the plot bunnies are on an X2-induced hiatus? 'Cause my brain seems to have gone on vacation without telling the rest of my body? 'Cause I'm an undercover CIA operative who travels the world on covert missions? ... Okay, so maybe not. But the last one would've been really cool! : )

~ Marie -- Okay, it's bad enough that we have rabid plot bunnies. Do we really need to add the flying monkeys too? And where in Hades are you guys even *getting* the monkeys?!

**CHAPTER 8  
Safe and Sound**

_Ah was sitting on Marie's bed, holding one of her beloved stuffed animals. It was a potbellied, rust-colored bunny with a green bib on. One of its droopy ears fell over its face like wayward bangs. Th' sorrowful, blue-eyed expression was staring back at me, as if ta say she knew her owner had gone missing. For some reason Ah took comfort in having th' toy in my hands. It made th' connection ta my daughter seem all that stronger. _

_How many years had it been since Ah'd become a man of th' cloth? Almost a fourth of a century, Ah believe. Quite a long time if you stopped ta think about it. Twenty-five years of serving God, and serving others. Baptisms, weddings, funerals -- all were a part of th' routine, th' job. Ah couldn't recall how many ceremonies Ah had officiated over th' years. Hundreds? Maybe thousands? Ah'd lost count some time ago. They all seemed ta blur together into one big mess of emotions, whether it was happy or sad. _

_But there was one day that stood out in my memory as clear as nothing else: th' day Marie was born. _

_It had been a hot season in Caldecott, and Catherine was into her thirty-first hour of labor. She was spouting out every single curse word she could think of, and even getting inventive and creating some of her own. Now on any normal day, my wife was a strong woman -- very athletic and fit. But if you added what she later described as th' 'excruciating' pain of childbirth, then you pretty much had a woman who could crush my left hand without a second thought. Ah only started getting sensation back into it a week later. _

_When little Marie finally decided ta arrive, she announced it in a big way. Th' scream from those tiny lungs could have been heard clear across town. There was absolutely no doubt that she was Catherine's daughter, all spunk and spirit. She was beautiful... and so perfect. Now every new parent probably said that about their children, but Ah had th' good fortune of actually speaking th' truth. She had that newborn-baby beauty about her that only intensified as she got older. _

_There was a time in our lives, just a few months after we'd lost Catherine, when Ah had a sudden parental panic attack. Marie was nearly ten years old and growing faster than Ah ever wanted her to. Ah had no idea what Ah was going ta do when she started noticing boys. If Ah had a choice, Ah would have kept her a little girl forever. _

_But Ah didn't have that choice, and nature snuck up on me but good. It was ironic how Ah could help counsel other parents on how ta deal with their children, but Ah had troubled discussing th' 'birds and th' bees' with my own daughter. Ah would have been completely lost if it hadn't been for Raven and Irene, our good friends and neighbors down in Mississippi. They practically helped me raise Marie after Catherine passed away. And when Marie developed her mutant powers at th' age of twelve, it was Raven who taught her how ta control them. _

_But all th' coaching and pep talks never really prepared me for th' day when Marie came home ta introduce her first boyfriend. She had been fourteen at th' time. A little young, according ta Raven, but Ah trusted my daughter's judgment, if nothing else. If she felt she was ready ta commit ta a relationship then th' rest of us would simply have ta accept that -- even if Ah didn't like th' idea all that much. Th' boy's name was Rick, if Ah remembered correctly. He seemed more nervous than Ah was. He was a nice young man, very polite and sincere. However, Marie and he decided ta 'just stay friends' after six months of being together. They remained close up until th' time we moved ta Hazard. _

_It was here, up north, when Marie truly got into th' 'dating scene.' It felt like Ah was meeting a new beau every so and so number of months. Ah **should** have been worried with their rapid turnover rate. Strangely enough, Ah wasn't. And Ah had one person ta thank for that. _

_Remy. _

_He was just as protective of her as Ah was, perhaps at times even slightly more so. If a young man didn't pass his strict screening process then th' would-be suitor wouldn't even set foot in our house for my approval. On more than one occasion, Ah'd heard Marie yelling at her best friend for scaring away a boy she liked. _

_Susanne and Ah had found their interaction amusing. In many ways they were so similar, it was eerie. As if we were looking at one soul in two bodies. Th' way they would finish each other's sentences was bad enough, but when you watched them and saw how they unconsciously picked up th' other's mannerisms... it was downright spooky. _

_Th' question then was, if Ah knew how much Remy cared about Marie, if Ah knew how far he was willing ta go ta look out for her, why did Ah doubt his innocence? Why did my faith in him falter when th' Sheriff had pointed a finger in his direction? Ah was ashamed ta admit that Ah didn't know. _

_Ah shook my head. No, that wasn't it. Ah knew **exactly** why. _

_Aside from being a reverend, my job also required me ta be a counselor. My parishioners would approach me with an assortment of problems, both big and small. Most were th' average family disputes that were easily solved with a little bit of open communication. But once in a while, th' more serious situations found themselves on my doorstep. One such incident sought me out early on in my career. _

_Th' young woman's name was Annabelle. She was a little older than Marie was now, but only a few years younger than Ah was at th' time. Initially, Ah couldn't really understand why she had come ta see me; our first few meetings were primarily filled with pleasantries and small talk. It wasn't until our third session that she seemed comfortable enough ta open up. Apparently she was in love with a young man. However, this young man was engaged ta one of her closest friends. Annabelle told me that she felt cheated out of th' relationship that should have been hers in th' first place. After several more discussions, Ah laid out her options for her. One: she could remain silent and allow her two friends ta continue with their relationship. Or two: she could admit her feelings ta th' groom and, if rejected, could at least have closure on th' subject and move on with her life. She chose th' latter option. _

_Following that session, Ah didn't see or hear anything from Annabelle for th' next couple of weeks. She returned, eventually, with th' news that she had disclosed her feelings ta th' groom. Her face was an odd mixture of sadness and relief as she informed me of his gentle rejection of her. Ah asked how she was doing and she said that she was fine, a little hurt at th' sting but overall glad that she had taken th' risk. Ah was proud of her for choosing ta make herself vulnerable, and then finding th' strength ta pick herself up after th' fall. _

_A month before th' wedding, which Ah was set ta officiate, Annabelle seemed like an entirely different woman. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She was cheerful and happy, with a bright smile constantly adorning her features. That same smile was still cemented in place during th' ceremony itself, when she used a revolver ta shoot th' bride in th' back of th' head. _

_Ah felt tears form in my eyes as Ah stared down at my daughter's stuffed bunny. Ah knew where th' doubts about Remy's innocence were coming from. Ah knew why my faith wasn't as steady as it always had been. Ah wanted ta be wrong. Dear Lord, how Ah wanted ta be wrong. But intense emotions had a tendency ta swing either way. And Ah couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty which way Remy would go... or had already gone._

- oOo -

_In the handful of years that I'd been deputy sheriff, not once had I been given the opportunity to conduct an interrogation. Come to think of it, neither had Sheriff Miller. Our primary objective as law enforcement officers was to keep peace and order within the community. That was hardly a difficult task to accomplish. Hazard wasn't exactly teeming with violence and felonious activities. In fact, the most heinous crime that its residents had ever seen was fifteen years ago when some of the high school students had 'accidentally' dropped Mrs. Patterson's goldfish from the roof of a building -- apparently our young folk were easily entertained. So you could imagine how much experience we had when it came to questioning our first 'hardened' criminal. _

_From the get-go, Remy expressed his innocence, claiming that he'd left Marie Johnson alone by the river that night. Two hours and a tiring amount of questions later, he still insisted that she'd been safe and sound when he'd left her, despite the fact that we'd told him about the eyewitness who could directly contest his statement. _

_In the end, instead of gathering more information on Marie's possible whereabouts, the interrogation gave us nothing more than splitting headaches. I couldn't help but think that the longer Remy withheld information from us, the less our chances were of finding Marie alive._

- oOo -

_Been a couple o' hours since de Sheriff an' de Deputy stopped givin' me de third degree. Couldn't really get mad at dem since dey were jus' doin' deir jobs. Dey were good, but not good enough t'get me t'confess t'somet'in' I didn' do. _

_I leaned back against de wall o' my cell. Never knew how much I'd miss my freedom until it was taken from me. Been stuck in dis damn box f'r more dan a day an' I was startin' t'get a li'l stir crazy. Was never one t'sit still f'r long. Marie used t'complain 'bout how much I bounced off de walls, like my backside was on fire. _

_Grounded my teeth in frustration. Merde. Promised myself I was gon' quit t'inkin' 'bout her f'r a while, give my brain a rest. Had gone all o' two minutes wit' it, too. Guess somet'in's couldn't be prevented. De Earth wouldn't stop spinnin' around de sun, jus' like I wouldn't be able t'get her out o' my t'oughts. Dat was either a really good t'ing or a really bad t'ing. From where I was sittin', it was lookin' more an' more like option number two. _

_T'say dat I was kickin' myself in de ass f'r leavin' her at de cove was de biggest understatement o' my life. I knew I shouldn't have left her dere -- I **knew** it. Somet'in' was tellin' me not to, an' my instincts weren't usually wrong. Why de hell did I walk away den? I kept t'inkin' dat, while I was workin' over at de garage, somet'in' was happenin' t'her on de other side o' town. An' I could've been dere... I could've done **somet'in'...** _

_Buried my head in my hands. De image o' Marie lyin' in a pool o' blood kept poppin' inta my mind, her pale skin even paler from de loss. Her eyes were wide wit' fear... terror... at whatever had been done t'her. Her lips were open slightly, like a scream had died on dem. It took all o' my concentration t' not charge up de cot an' ev'ryt'in' beyond it. _

_De t'ought o' not seein' her again was never more real t'me dan at dat moment, in dat cell... where I could hear snippets o' hope fadin' inta not'in'._

- oOo -

_Ah almost felt like taking th' bunny with me, but decided against it. It was one of Marie's favorites and Ah wanted ta make sure it was still in her room when she got back... Ah **had** ta have faith that she was coming back. _

_Returning th' stuffed animal ta its shelf, Ah noticed a flash of shiny metal glittering in th' sunshine. It was a picture, framed and sitting on top of Marie's desk -- one of her, Remy and Susanne. Ah remembered this snapshot because Ah was th' one who took it. Photography had been a hobby of mine, but one that was pushed into th' shadows over th' years because of my schedule. Marie had said that it was one of my more stunning photos because it was so candid. In it, she and Susanne were laughing good naturedly at whatever Remy had done. _

_Ah squinted my eyes and took a closer look. Something was different about this shot, but Ah couldn't quite understand what it was. Ah shook my head. It didn't really matter, Ah supposed. But th' feeling kept nagging me... _

_Ah turned my attention back ta Susanne's image. She and Ah had gotten close over th' few years that we'd known each other, having both gone through th' pain of losing a spouse. Our relationship was never on th' romantic level; more of a platonic one, like our children. And just like those years with Raven and Irene, Ah felt as if Ah had someone ta help me parent my daughter. _

_On th' weekends, th' four of us would get together for lunch like we were a family. Two of us would cook, while th' other two were in charge of setting up and then cleaning th' kitchen. We were like an odd version of th' Brady Bunch. After th' meal, Susanne and Ah would talk quietly on th' porch, while watching our children revert themselves back into a pair of three-year-olds arguing like there was no tomorrow. _

_Though she was rather young ta be a mother of a teenaged son, Susanne always seemed older, as if she had lived longer than her years. Ah remembered a conversation we had on one such weekend get together. Her eyes had glazed over with what Ah could only describe as motherly pride, but it was tinged with just a hint of sadness. Ah asked her about th' look and she cryptically answered, "He'll be all alone." She turned back ta th' children then and quietly murmured something in French. _

_My eyes suddenly widened at th' memory and Ah stared at th' picture even harder, focusing on Remy's face. He was grinning back at both Susanne and Marie with equal amounts of... _

_... love. _

"_Il l'aime." _

_He loves her. Those were Susanne's words that day. She knew... even back then. She knew that Remy's feelings for Marie was more than just friendship. Ah, on th' other hand, didn't want ta see it. Ah didn't want ta think that there was another man in my daughter's life that loved her just as much as Ah did. But it all made sense now. How protective he was when it came ta her and her boyfriends. How he wanted ta make sure she did well in school. Ah think there was even a time when he was teaching her how ta fight, how ta defend herself -- "just in case she ever needed it." _

_Ah started thinking. If Remy's love for Marie was in part like his love for his mother, then there was **absolutely** no possible way that he could have done anything ta her. Remy would have willingly laid his life down had there been th' remotest chance of protecting Susanne. Ah had been slow ta realize that he would have done th' same for Marie. _

_Ah shot off th' bed as if lightning had stuck me. Of course he would. My goodness, how could Ah even doubt that? Remy was nothing like Annabelle. Nothing. Annabelle's love for that young man had driven her ta take a life. Remy would never do such a thing. Ah was sure. Ah didn't have any proof of that fact, but Ah was sure. Call it fatherly intuition. _

_Setting th' picture frame back down, Ah headed for th' door. There was a young man Ah had ta see, and apologize to, for my lack of faith._

- oOo -

_How long had I been sittin' dere, frozen like a statue, my head restin' on my arms? Couldn't really tell. Felt like de day Marie an' I stayed by Maman's grave. Turned out we spent de entire day in dat one spot, neither o' us noticin' how long it'd been. It was like dat now. Time jus'... stopped. _

_I sighed. Maybe dat was another mutant power I didn' know I had. Maybe I could stop ev'ryt'in' in de world from movin'. An' if I could do dat, den maybe I could go back in time. If dat were possible, I'd go back t'de days wit' Marie an' freeze de two o' us in place. Den she'd be safe. Den she'd be here._

"Remy."

_Mem'ries o' her kept me preoccupied f'r a bit -- how she helped me fix up de Harley, how she got all happy when I gave her a t-shirt wit' 'New York Girl' written on de front, how she felt in my arms an' tasted on my lips. Almost made me f'rget dat she wasn't right dere next t'me like she usually was._

"Remy."

_Have you ever had someone in ya life dat you jus' knew you couldn't live wit'out? What would you do if dat person were suddenly taken away from you? How would you react? _

_Be damned if I knew._

"Remy...?"

_I lifted my head. What de hell did dey want now? Couldn't dey jus' let me worry about her in peace? She could be dead. An' here dey had me locked up like -- _

_Could feel de moisture buildin' in de back o' my eyes, threatenin' t'roll down my cheeks. Tried t' will dem away. Next t' no one had ever seen me cry. Wasn't gon' let whoever was on de other side o' de cell have dat particular honor._

- oOo -

_The sun was losing its heat; another thirty minutes and it would set. I was staring at the police station from across the street, waiting. It shouldn't have been much longer._

"Hi, Mr. Robinson."

_I turned toward the voice. It was a youngster of about thirteen, stuffing his face with some sort of stretchy green substance. Whatever it was would probably rot his teeth **and** his brain. I think I knew his parents, but I couldn't quite remember the lad's name. The Jenkins' boy. Their third, I believe. He followed up his greeting with a wave and then continued on down the road, chewing loudly. _

_I shook my head. Youth was really being wasted on the young. _

_My eyes roamed back to the other side of the street. After a few minutes, I saw the Reverend walk up to the building with determined strides. There went a man with a purpose. I couldn't help but sympathize with him. It must have been a hard thing to lose a daughter. _

_The Reverend was two steps shy of getting over the threshold when the door suddenly swung open. _

_And the Devil's child stepped out. _

_He was being released. Supposedly because of the 'lack of evidence.' If you asked me, the Sheriff was off his rocker. How much more evidence did the law need? That boy was by the river last night. It couldn't be by chance that the Reverend's daughter went missing the very next morning. _

_He did something to her. The entire town knew it. _

_For all we knew he could have blown her up. Poof! Into nothing but dust. He'd done it before, what was stopping him from doing it again? Those fools wouldn't believe until they came across her ashes staring them straight in the face. Then they would kick themselves for letting him go so easily. _

_And what was all that hogwash about me not being a reliable source? I came from a very long line of upstanding citizens. My family was one of the first residents here in Hazard. The Sheriff was aware of that, and yet he still considered my testimony 'unreliable.' So what if I'd forgotten to mention that I didn't actually see the boy's face when I was first questioned. How many people in town could be his **exact** height and built? Not to mention the fact that I heard the Johnson girl address him by name. That was one too many factors for it all to be a coincidence. _

_The Reverend and the boy were still in front of the police station, talking. I wasn't close enough to hear them, but judging from their facial expressions it was far from being a heated conversation. The Reverend was too softhearted. Too forgiving. If anyone had the right to be furious with that boy, it was him. But no, he didn't look like he was. In fact, it looked like **he** was the one apologizing to that punk. _

_The world wasn't making sense to me anymore. Young girls were disappearing and the suspects were being let go. Whatever happened to the days when the innocents were safe and the guilty were punished?_

----

Ha! Not a cliffhanger in sight! See I'm perfectly capable of writing a chapter without one... *struggles desperately to not re-write ending.*

Let me know if you want to be added to the Hit/Update List. Oh, and just so you all know, the Hit List is going to be carried over to any future fics once _Hazard_ is done. So if you want to be let out of the insanity anytime soon (Never! You'll never make it out alive, I tell you!) just let me know... ; )

Guess what? It's my anniversary! Whoo-hoo! My account has been active for an entire year! I'm actually surprised they havent't tried to get rid off me yet, what with all the insanity going on around here. ; )


	9. Make It to the River

**Disclaimer: **I would just like to know, how many of you are _actually_ reading this disclaimer? C'mon, be honest now... 

**A/N: **It's nice to see that the site's up and running properly again. Sad thing is, a few of the reviews I received didn't get through to the Review Board. But for those who sent them, I still got a copy via email so you don't get to weasel out of hearing my annoying rants. ; ) And WHOO-HOO! We passed the 200-mark! Don't worry, I'll spare you all the horror of seeing me do the happy dance again. But know that mentally, I'm doing the dance! ; ) 

~ TrinityC, Lucky439, Mystical Sand, heartstar, prettyputty, T., Sakura Scout, Rogue Worrior Spirit, Wishful Thinking, Cris-X, Susannah De Silva, Lisa, Kiki Lee, Hedwig Trelawney, katjen, girlonthem00n, nasico, paranoiachick, Leina, -- Just a quick update: the coup of the Microsoft Corporation is right on schedule. Monetary bonuses and really big material rewards should be coming your way in about six months or so. ; ) 

~ Eileen Blazer -- Holy hand grenades? Not a bad idea... But then, who's going to clean up the mess once we blow the plot bunnies into the next hemisphere? That's not exactly something I want to volunteer for... "I demand to know what's happened to Marie." I demanded the same thing out of the plot bunnies and look where that's gotten me... 

~ Panther Nesmith -- Hidden dragon? Did the bunnies bring him in? They did, didn't they? That would be _so_ like them... 

~ GrinningContrivance -- Okay, does the fact that I actually _heard_ violin music playing in the background mean something? Has my insanity gone and mutated itself again? 

~ Alwaysright -- What? I'm not looking at you... *continues to stare in open curiosity* I've never watched a single episode of _General Hospital._ My mom used to be a _Days of Our Lives_ viewer when I was little, but that only lasted for so long. Though _clearly_ it's left a lasting impression on me. ; ) 

~ Mag Carter -- Could you 'ooh' from the left and then 'awe' from the right? You know, like stereo? 'Cause if you can do that, then that's worth a cool million right there... : ) 

~ Christy S -- "Most people depict Rogue's fanfiction father as some twisted and evil man who abused her." Hmm... I fell into that stereotype back in _After Midnight,_ didn't I? : ) ... So I'm assuming your finals are done and you're now on summer vacation, so you don't have any more reason not to update! 

~ vagabond -- Very intriguing theories you have there. Unfortunately, that's all I'm gonna say about that. : ) 

~ Disturbed Courtney -- Wow, your prediction came true... You actually did post _Street Livin'_ before this part. Do you have clairvoyant abilities that you aren't telling us about? 

~ Dark Void -- Why is it that everyone is gleefully asking me to hit them and then when I move to oblige their request, they suddenly don't want me to go through with it? I'm seriously beginning to wonder... ; ) 

~ ishandahalf -- Okay, here we go... 1) This isn't like the possessed cake from last time, is it? 'Cause that one kind of brought me some problems... 2) *sigh* I think the interpretive dance is just like the cheese story... I just shouldn't have asked... ; ) 3) I restock on dignity every once in a while, just to pass as 'normal.' They come in these convenient economical 12-packs, good for the whole year. 4) You know you're right... what proof do they have that that goldfish wasn't suicidal? Those poor kids were wrongly accused! 4) Again with the food! Why is everyone giving me food?! : ) 5) Okay, wait a minute... "a cliffhanger by association"? Now you're just making this stuff up! 

~ Warmer Than Fire -- Wow, your first review ever? Well, thanks for picking this fic to give that honor to! : ) And a balloon? Coolness! Is it one of those really big ones with the basket on the bottom and the hot air that makes it float? That way I can use it for an alternate escape route when the bunnies come a-hunting. Bunnies can't fly, can they? ; ) 

~ Shadow Spirit -- Laughing and crying in one sitting? Is that normal? I don't think so... *gasp!* Maybe you've crossed over to the land of the insane! Whoo-hoo, we nabbed another one, people! ; ) 

~ Malena -- Well hi, stranger. It's been a while since I've seen you around here. : ) 

~ kari lebeau -- Two reviews within a week of each other? I'm sorry... has the insanity gotten to you, too? It pops up when you least expect it. ; ) 

~ Goddess Evie -- 1) *gasp!* A lost review! Killed before its prime! The tragedy of it all! *sniff, sniff* 2) I hear you about the "Marie" thing. I addressed that issue in a response to Disturbed Courtney back in Chapter 4, if you wanted to check that out. (Haha, can you tell I'm just too lazy to type it all over again? ; ) 3) Wait a minute, WHAT?! _I had a fanfiction baby and I didn't know about it?!_ How the heck did that happen? More importantly, who's the father? ; ) 4) You're going to get rid of the plot bunnies? Wow. Nobody's ever offered to do that before! I don't actually have to _eat_ the bunny stew, do I?... umm... But who will think up all the insane insanity once the bunnies are gone? I mean, half the time my muse is on vacation so they usually compensate for that... 5) I'm glad to hear that you refused the snot... ; ) 

~ Neoen -- Wow, another two-review reviewer! (Did that make sense? It sounded like it didn't make sense. 'Cause if it _did_ make sense, I could always go back and change it so that it doesn't. : ) 

~ this is sex -- Nothing to comment on really, but DAMN, do you ever have a cool penname! ; ) 

~ cooldotgirl -- *feigns innocence* I'm sorry... no, I didn't notice those 8 wonderful reviews that pushed the review count up so much higher... Maybe if you did it again it would catch my attention... ; ) Just kidding. Thanks so much for taking the time to do that! 

~ Marvel -- *chuckle* No, the site didn't eat your review... well, not completely anyway. I got a copy of it through email so it wasn't lost. 

~ Makura Koneko -- Ooh, a fledgling Rogue and Remy fan! How nice! I hope you soon become a no-hope-of-ever-seeing-the-light-of-day, diehard fan like the rest of us! ; ) 

~ Marie -- Hmm... maybe I should consult with Goddess Evie about making monkey pie to go with her bunny stew... ; ) If I'm a dealer, then I could be making money off of this! Maybe I should withhold all succeeding fics until the checks clear... : )   


**CHAPTER 9   
Make It to the River**

It was raining. 

It had been for a few hours now, yet he didn't seem inclined to rush out and seek shelter. The downfall was far from being heavy, but it fell steadily onto his hair and shoulders without apology or pause. The wind picked up, bringing with it the scent of newly scrubbed earth. It was strange how everything seemed fresher when it rained, how everything smelled cleaner, even though the falling water made puddle after puddle of mud that clung to his boots with a viscosity that any leech would envy. 

He felt the hefty weight of his water-soaked jacket pressing down on his body, just as he felt the same weight pressing down on his heart. Pitching one leg over the seat of his bike, he climbed off and settled the vehicle onto its kickstand. The Harley looked ready to tip over, what with the load secured at the bike's rear, but it was sturdy enough to hold. Not bothering to pocket his keys, he turned up his collar and made his way up the steps. 

The first thing that hit him when he entered was the bright florescent lighting, blinding compared to the darkness outside, followed by the cheery warmth of the diner's interior. Not many patrons were there that night -- the rain having kept the rest safe and dry in their homes -- but a few had braved the elements and were scattered sporadically amongst the tables. 

Without hesitation or concern for the glances thrown in his direction, he strode purposefully towards the kitchen in the back. 

"Remy!" Margaret called out when she caught sight of him. She slipped past a waitress who was pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. "Good Lord, boy, you're soakin' wet! What're you doin' stayin' outside in weather like this?" 

He offered her a small smile. "Haven't you heard o' water conservation, Maggie? I'm doin' Mother Nature a favor by takin' my showers wit' her." 

"Flirtin' with death is more like it," she scolded, shooing him out of the kitchen and back into the dining area. With a nod of her head, she led him into the backroom that had once served as living quarters for both he and his mother. 

There was an old smell to the room, as if the air was heavy and stale, only now being allowed to intermingle with its fresh, clean counterpart. It'd been a while since Remy had last been there; school and work and Marie had taken up a lot of his time. It hadn't changed much over the years, not that he expected it would. No one had lived in that space after they had moved out nearly a decade before. Both his bed and his mother's bed still stood a few feet apart, with a nightstand in between and a small, old television set positioned against the opposite wall. A large chest of drawers lined the wall to the right, while to their left was the bathroom. And though the door was securely shut, Remy knew that it still boasted that familiar white and blue pattern from his childhood. The walls themselves were bare, having been stripped of what little decoration adorned their surfaces when he and his mother had moved into their own home. 

Margaret turned to him after closing the door. "So this is it, huh?" she asked. "This is where it ends?" 

There was deep sadness written across her face, and Remy regretted being the cause of that. _"Oui._ Dis is where it ends." 

"Kind of funny, ain't it?" she continued, gesturing around the room with an ironic grin. "This is where you an' your mama started out here in Hazard, an' this is where you're endin'..." She tried to hide the sob that caught in her throat. 

Inwardly, Remy wanted to smile at that. Margaret had a reputation for being a hard case, a tough-as-nails, call-'em-like-she-sees-'em kind of a lady. But with him, she was nothing but softness and warmth. He had found a second mother in her, their bond only strengthening more after his own mother's death. To have it all come to this... 

He walked over and wrapped her into a tight hug. "I'm gonna miss you de most, Maggie," he whispered gently. "I'm sorry t'leave you like dis, but I jus' can't..." 

"It's okay, sweetie," she soothed when he trailed off, rubbing her hands across his back in a motherly gesture. "I know why you're leavin'. I know why you have to go." She broke the embrace and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Reaching up, she adjusted the collar of his jacket and then smoothed back his wet hair. "Just wish you'd reconsider an' wait for these rain clouds to clear up." She looked at him sternly. "You take care of yourself, ya hear me? I don't wanna find out that you've been in a hospital or somethin' 'cause ya forgot to stay healthy." 

He did smile at that. _"Oui, madame."_

"An' no stayin' up so late either. Despite what ya like to think, young man, you need your rest too." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

She peered up at him then, a serious expression gracing her features as she gently cupped her hands against his cheeks and locked gazes with him. "Remy," she said softly. "I'm sorry about..." 

He nodded, accepting her sympathy but grateful that she didn't complete her sentence. There were some things that hurt too much to hear out loud. 

She sighed and then held him tightly once again, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. "You come back to see me every now an' again, all right? No excuses." 

"I'll try." He looked down at her and with all sincerity, he murmured, _"Merci,_ Maggie. F'r ev'ryt'in'." 

By this time, Margaret wasn't even trying to prevent her tears from falling. She had never really been very good at goodbyes. It seemed like everyone in her life heard the call to move on, while she stubbornly stayed put -- first her husband passing away, then her children migrating to other states, now Remy leaving. Maybe it was time for her to start another chapter in her own life, as well. But then again, to start all over at her age... Maybe it was better to stay where her roots were. 

"Now look what you've gone an' made an old woman do. I'm beginnin' to think you're tryin' to make me cry on purpose," she chided good-naturedly. 

"How many times I gotta tell you, Maggie? Ya not even close t'bein' old." 

"Uh-huh." She slipped her arm through his and guided him toward the door. "C'mon, ya li'l devil, I'll walk you out." 

They made their way back through the diner, ignoring the rest of the townsfolk, and didn't stop until they were just out of reach of the cascading raindrops. A small stream slipped through a crack in the gutter overhead, steadily spilling into a deep puddle it had already created in the mud. 

Remy turned to Margaret. The older woman's frame was surrounded by the diner's bright lighting, giving her an ethereal appearance. He almost got the impression that she was some sort of deity from the heavens bidding him farewell and good journey on the next leg of his quest. 

_"Au revoir,_ Maggie." He bent to kiss the back of her hand, and was not the least bit surprised when she pulled him into yet another tight embrace as he was straightening up again. 

"Godspeed, Remy," she whispered emotionally. "The good Lord'll watch over you." She hugged him fiercely for several long moments before finally relenting her hold and taking a small step away from him. 

He offered her a weak smile, pulled up his jacket collar and then ventured out again, back under the rain's stinging affection. The Harley was exactly where he'd left it, safe and untouched, save for nature's elements. 

"This is Hazard, Remy," Marie's voice came to him in memory. "This town's so safe they even let thieves live here." 

After climbing onto the motorcycle and starting the engine, he looked back towards Margaret, who still stood outside the diner, watching him leave. He raised one hand in a final goodbye, and then took off down Main Street. 

Five minutes later, he was at the river's edge in the front of town. A few more feet and he would be out of Hazard. All he had to do was cross the bridge and leave. But something made him stop. Something made him turn and take one more look at the only home he'd known since he was seven years old. 

He'd once told himself that the reason he had stayed was because of his 'anchors,' because of his mother and his best friend. They were the reason he chose to live in a town that shied away from him like he was diseased. They were the reason he put up with all the discrimination and prejudice that had been thrown in his direction. But he no longer had those reasons. He no longer had the two most important people in his life. He'd wondered just how much time needed to go by before he couldn't take anymore. 

A year. 

An entire year. 

That was how long it had taken. That was how long it had been since Marie's disappearance. A little more than three hundred and sixty-five days had brought them no closer to discovering what had happened to her. The Sheriff and the Deputy had exhausted every potential lead that had come their way, including interrogating and then re-interrogating nearly every member of the community. Both Remy and Donald Robinson had been given particular attention, since they were in the general area where Marie had last been seen. But every turn had nothing new to offer. There was nothing else to be done. Marie's case was soon filed under the 'unsolved mysteries' category. 

There had been more than one occasion over the past twelve months when Remy wished they'd simply found her dead, as sick and morbid as that may have sounded. But at least then he would have had some form of closure; he would have learned what had happened to her that night. What he had now was speculation... merely possibilities of what _could_ have happened to Marie. There was nothing definite, nothing concrete -- just his imagination and the vast number of plausible scenarios. On the one hand, she could have been dead; on the other, she could have been kidnapped. There was no way of knowing for sure. Sometimes he felt that the unknown was infinitely crueler than her death would have been. 

And so he was leaving. He was finally moving on and putting Hazard behind him. He'd sold his mother's house, packed only the barest of his belongings onto the back of the Harley, and was ready to get on with the rest of his life. He didn't actually know where he would go. Maybe he would just see where the open road would take him. Or maybe he'd ride up to New York, like he'd originally planned to do with Marie. Truth be told, he hadn't really given his final destination much thought. He simply needed to get away from Hazard, to get away from the memories that lay soaking at every turn. 

The rain was still coming down, the cold seeping into his skin. He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. It'd been a while since he had a haircut. Marie was no longer around to needle him into getting one. 

"You look like a rat fresh out o' bed," she chided him one afternoon. "Ah don' know how yoah momma can stand ta look at you." 

He had smiled at her then, teasing her back with a jibe about her own two-toned tresses. The argument had ended in a huge pillow fight that had all but cost one of her stuffed animals an arm and a leg. 

Reaching into his pocket, he felt for the silver chain that lay within. Technically the necklace was still considered evidence in a police investigation, but Remy felt no qualms about liberating it from the Sheriff's office. He'd originally intended to return it to the Reverend -- as it was a reminder of the man's daughter as well as his late wife -- but he had asked Remy to keep it, "to help him hold onto her spirit" as the young Cajun went on his way. 

Saying goodbye to Marie's father had been difficult for Remy. The Reverend seemed like the last link he had to his best friend, and leaving the older man behind felt like he was abandoning Marie herself. He almost didn't want to leave. His memories were at their strongest within the town's borders. But that seemed to be the problem. The memories were a double-edged sword. They brought him back to the happiest moments of his life, but at the same time reminded him of all that he had lost. In the end, the black hole in his heart had won out, and he had to leave before it consumed him entirely. 

Remy allowed his gaze to wander down Main Street and over the fields in the back of town, though he couldn't see them clearly through the rain. In his mind's eye he could picture their cove by the river, the same as it had always been. The place where they went to watch the sunset die and dreams come alive. 

"What 'bout you, Remy? Don' you have a dream?" 

_I didn't, chèrie,_ he thought as he lowered his eyes to the necklace in his palm. _Not dat day. Not 'til you taught me how t'do it again. How t'dream about you an' me… an' f'rever._

He closed his fist around the delicate chain and slowly hide it away, back into his pocket. With sad eyes, he memorized the last image he would ever have of Hazard. 

"Wish you didn' teach me how t'dream again, Marie," he whispered into the wind. "'Cause it hurts like hell when it doesn't come true." 

The sounds of nature drowned out the Harley, as it made its way across the bridge and into the night.   


**

* The End *   


**

"Hazard"   
Richard Marx 

My mother came to Hazard when I was just seven   
Even then the folks in town said with prejudiced eyes   
That boy's not right   
Three years ago when I came to know Mary   
First time that someone looked beyond the rumors and the lies   
And saw the man inside 

We used to walk down by the river   
She loved to watch the sun go down   
We used to walk along the river   
And dream our way out of this town 

No one understood what I felt for Mary   
No one cared until the night she went out walking alone   
And never came home   
Man with a badge came knocking next morning   
Here was I surrounded by a thousand fingers suddenly   
Pointed right at me 

I swear I left her by the river   
I swear I left her safe and sound   
I need to make it to the river   
And leave this old Nebraska town 

I think about my life gone by   
How it's done me wrong   
There's no escape for me this time   
All of my rescues are gone, long gone 

I swear I left her by the river   
I swear I left her safe and sound   
I need to make it to the river   
And leave this old Nebraska town 

---- 

Now before anyone goes on a killing rampage because of the way this fic ended -- I, btw, have plot bunnies and an armor-clad muse who stand ready to fight, if it comes down to that -- please hear me out. I don't know if anyone has noticed, but every time someone would ask the question, "What happened to Marie?" I would _never_ answer. That's because from the very beginning, when this fic was still an inkling of an idea in my brain, the outcome was _always_ like this. It was never supposed to go any further than this point. This is not, in any way, my attempt to simply jump on the bandwagon of recent fics that have ended in not-so-happily-ever-after's. You can see from Richard Marx's lyrics alone that the song itself is left hanging; they never find out what happened to Mary. 

Over the months, the thought of concluding this fic in some other way had briefly crossed my mind, but in the end I'd always decide against it. The best piece of advice I've ever heard about writing is to be honest with the story, and that was what I tried to do here, staying true to the story started by Richard Marx. I have a few ideas about a sequel, and perhaps extending the story even further, but at the moment they're sketchy and vague at best. I'll probably continue with this storyline eventually, but not right now. There are other ideas that I want to develop first. 

Just a couple of quick notes that I wanted to point out: 1) Every chapter title used came from the lyrics of the song. And 2) The reason I decided to make Rogue's name Marie in this fic is because in the song the girl's name is Mary. I just thought it was so perfect since Mary is a variant of the French name Marie. Little bit of stupid trivia. ; ) 

Just an annoying little reminder. The Hit List will be used for any upcoming fanfic that is -- *gasp!* -- written by me. (Get out while you still can!) If you're as insane as the rest of us and would like to join, then by all means leave your email add on the Review Board. 

Thanks for reading!   
Hope to see you all again when the insanity next pops up... : ) 


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